Praise for
#1 Blackboard Bestselling Author
FELICIA MASON

“Mason is a superb storyteller…she creates magic.”

—Publishers Weekly

“[Mason] places the Christian theme front and center while also making room for a touching portrait of human desires and frailties.”

—Booklist

“Felicia Mason…will make the reader sigh, cry, then shout for joy at the triumphant, healing power of true love.”

—Romantic Times

Sweet Devotion
Felicia Mason

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is for all of the Ambers

who seek shelter, peace and hope.

A portion of the proceeds of this book

is being donated to Transitions Family

Violence Services, an organization

that supports women and children in crisis.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Author Note

Chapter One

Armed with a carving knife, Amber Montgomery took cover as a metal folding chair hurtled her way. The chair crashed against the edge of a white-draped carving table, taking out the end of the serving station where she’d been carving beef at the Wayside Revelers’ Annual Dinner Dance.

She watched in horror as eight pounds of beets splattered to the floor sending deep red beet juice splashing up and out like a demented geyser.

She’d known, of course, that taking this catering job carried a certain amount of risk. The Wayside Revelers tended to revel a bit too much at their functions. But after their last fiasco at the VFW hall, Amber thought they’d mellowed and would be on their best behavior tonight.

That, obviously, wasn’t the case.

She didn’t know how this melée started, but she needed to—

“Watch out!” someone yelled.

Amber ducked just a moment before another chair came within inches of taking her out.

This was getting personal!

She jumped up. “Hey, I’m the caterer. Why are you attacking me?”

But no one heard her or paid any attention. They were too busy destroying the hall and themselves—and having a great time doing so. The scene in front of her looked like a barroom brawl in the wild wild West. Except, this wasn’t the eighteen-hundreds frontier. It was peaceful little Wayside, Oregon, population 17,800, in the twenty-first century.

Over the commotion, Amber heard what sounded like police sirens. Help was on the way!

Maybe she could salvage the trays of lemon meringue tarts—six hours of work. Amber inched toward the desserts, but someone else spied them at the same time. An elderly man grabbed one in each hand and smiled.

“Don’t you have any respect for food?” she demanded.

Unmindful of the scene playing out behind him, the man shook his head, grinned a toothless smile and aimed.

“Don’t you dare!” Amber said, holding a hand up in front of her face.

“Lighten up, honey,” he said. “It’s just a pastry.”

And then her own lemon meringue hit her in the face. Amber shrieked and whirled around—

“Hold it right there.”

With one hand Amber wiped pie from her face. She cleared her vision enough to see the pie thrower scuttle off to the side and disappear into the crowd. She wiped away more meringue and the shadow in front of her came into focus, the details registering. Tall, with broad shoulders, a slim waist and feet planted apart, he scowled at her. A very big, very threatening cop stood not three feet away.

“You’re under arrest, lady.”

“Me? What did I do? I’m the one being attacked. Arrest one of them,” she demanded, waving the carving knife toward the Revelers now merrily flinging the rest of her lemon tarts at each other.

The cop didn’t spare a glance at the havoc being wrought behind him. “Drop the knife now.”

Amber tensed at the tone. Then she looked up at the cop. His eyes glinted and she realized that his hand hovered near his revolver.

“What knife?”

He took a menacing step forward, and Amber whimpered. The carving knife she’d forgotten she clutched in her hand clattered to the floor. In the next moment, the cop was all over her. He grabbed her arm, yanking it around her back.

“You’re hurting me.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, she felt the cold steel of handcuffs clamp on her wrist.

Something snapped in her then, and Amber fought. A fragment of the self-defense she’d been taught flickered through her. She kicked out at him. “No! You can’t do this. I won’t let you do this…”

One of her kicks connected and she heard his intake of breath. Her small victory, however, was short-lived. He held her tightly and secured the other wrist.

“Lady, if you don’t settle down,” he said, his voice a deceptively calm growl, “I’m going to add resisting arrest to your charges.”

It wasn’t so much what he said as the way the words sounded that got to her. They held a rumbled warning of coming pain. She knew that tone, knew what would happen to her if she defied him again. She’d tried to fight. She’d tried to remember she didn’t have to be a victim. She’d also tried to remember how to defend herself.

But he had the physical advantage of height and weight and strength. Resistance was futile, she realized. Why did it always have to be this way?

Amber closed her eyes and surrendered to the inevitable.

The handcuffed woman went limp, and Paul had to move fast to catch her before she hit the floor.

Police Chief Paul Evans commanded a force of forty sworn officers and a full complement of dispatchers, secretaries and other civilians whose job it was to maintain the peace in Wayside. He’d been warned that the Wayside Revelers had a tendency to get out of hand at their events. So he’d been on patrol in the vicinity of the community center.

When he heard first a shout and then breaking glass, he’d called for backup and rushed in, just in time to have a small, blond beauty threaten him with a wicked-looking blade.

Even now, with the hellion subdued at his side, his officers swarmed the building rounding up rabble-rousers.

He turned to call one of the officers—

Thwack!

A mound of potatoes au gratin hit his forehead. Paul spotted the culprit, a little old man who quickly ditched the serving spoon he’d used as a missile launcher. The man then snatched up a serving tray lid and used it as a shield against the lemon tarts hurled his way.

“Jones!” Paul bellowed.

The cop sprinted forward.

“You there,” Paul ordered the old man. “Stop it.”

The devilish gleam in the elderly man’s eyes was replaced by an expression of innocence and fake senility. “Me?”

“Yeah, you.”

Dragging along a remarkably subdued knife wielder, Paul unlocked a second pair of cuffs.

“You’re arresting me?”

“That’s right, sir.”

“Hot diggity!” The little man stepped quickly to don the cuffs, showing pretty amazing dexterity for someone his age. Paul put him at close to eighty.

“Take these two out to my squad car,” he said to the young officer. “I’ll go round up some more of them.” He wiped his brow, shook potato goo from his hand and glared at the old man who was still grinning at him.

“Assaulting an officer could earn you some jail time, sir.”

“As long as you have cable, that’s fine by me. I like to watch wrestling.”

“I’ll just bet you do,” Paul muttered, walking away and stepping around a huge puddle of beets. The whole place was a wreck.

In the police car, Amber stared out the window, her face an expressionless mask.

“Isn’t this fun?” the little man asked.

It took a moment for the question to sink in and for Amber to comprehend that the pain hadn’t kicked in yet. She turned toward the voice, expecting to see her tormentor. Instead, she came eye-to-eye with an elf. Her eyes widened and her mouth, a thin line, began to tremble.

The man looked alarmed. “Aw, please don’t be mad. It was just a little pastry. It didn’t hurt, did it?”

Amber opened her mouth but no words came forth. Her tongue felt like sandpaper. She blinked once. Then again. And then the tears she’d hoped to hold back started to fall.

The man moved as if to comfort her, then, too late, remembered his hands were cuffed. He almost toppled into her lap. Amber squealed and pressed her back to the door. The little man righted himself.

“Oh, honey. It’s not that bad. Really. They’ll just take us down, do some fingerprints and then give us a good lecture. I missed last year’s dinner-dance, but that’s what I’m told happened.”

Amber just moaned.

To the casual observer, the Main Street district of Wayside, Oregon, might look a whole lot like Mayberry, R.F.D., but the police bureau was a reminder that crime happened in the town just like it did in every other American locality.

Once inside the large oak and cherry doors of the police bureau, it was apparent to any visitor that despite Wayside’s size, it had a state-of-the-art police department, fully equipped to handle any twenty-first century criminal activity and to protect the town’s citizens from such.

A long line of Revelers was herded past the intake desk and into lockup.

Amber stood in the midst of about thirty-five food-stained wretches, most of them incredibly self-satisfied over this bonus extension of their night’s festivities.

“My name’s Silas,” someone said.

Amber looked beside her. There stood her pie thrower, the little man from the police car. Having recovered enough to speak, Amber opened her mouth to give him what-for. But a voice boomed out over the general hubbub, drowning out her first words.

“Listen up, people.”

Amber’s skin prickled at the voice. She turned toward the voice and got another jolt when she looked at the man who’d cuffed and arrested her.

“My name’s Paul Evans and I’m the police chief here.”

“Hi, Chief Evans.” A couple of the Revelers called out the cheery greeting.

“Welcome to Wayside,” the little man at Amber’s side hollered.

Amber watched the big cop shake his head in bemusement. She rubbed her wrists. Though the handcuffs had been removed she still felt the weight of the shackles on her spirit. Taking a much-needed deep breath, Amber fought for the calm she knew she could find if she just took it slow. Keep it light, she coached herself. One breath at a time.

“We’ll be processing each one of you. After that, you’re free to go until your court date.”

“What about the lecture about being responsible citizens?” one of the Revelers asked.

The cop folded his arms across his chest. Amber watched muscles bunch and constrict, the blue fabric of his uniform pulled taut. Her study of the man missed no detail. From the black hiking boots at his feet, to the gleaming hardware on his gun belt.

His face matched the rest of him. Clean-shaven, angular. She paused at his eyes. Something wasn’t right about his eyes. A deep, almost piercing blue, they fit his face, but… Amber tilted her head a fraction, getting another view. At just that second, his gaze connected with hers.

She caught her breath.

He watched her for a moment, then turned his attention back to the group. “You want a lecture about acting like six-year-olds? The community center is completely trashed thanks to your food fight. Who’s in charge of you people?”

The crowd in lockup parted. Amber edged forward so she was near the front.

“I don’t belong in here,” she said. “You’ve made a mistake.”

Paul’s eyes narrowed in on her.

“About you, lady, there was no mistake.”

“I’m the grand marshal,” a man said, stepping forward and poking his chest out.

If it hadn’t been for the meringue in his hair, the potatoes on his tie and a missing shoe, he might have passed for “grand.”

Chuckling at the assembly, a couple of cops walked up behind the police chief, surveying the mass in lockup.

“What are you doing here, Amber?” Sergeant Caleb Jenkins asked.

“Caleb. Thank God.” Relief poured through Amber. “That’s the same thing I’ve been trying to find out. That lug head you call a police chief hauled me in here.”

People behind her snickered.

A muscle flickered angrily in Paul’s jaw. Though locked bars separated them, Amber stepped back.

“Lug head?”

“Uh,” Caleb started. “I, uh… He’s not a…” The sergeant didn’t meet her gaze, focusing instead on something on his boots.

“There’s been some kind of mix-up, Chief,” the sergeant said, marshaling his vocabulary and coming to her defense. “This is Amber Montgomery. She’s not a Reveler. She’s a caterer.”

Paul didn’t look convinced of her innocence. “You threatened me with a knife.”

Amber glared up at him, not letting the physical disparity of their heights dissuade her. “I am a caterer. If you’d done any kind of police work, you’d know that that was a carving knife. But how could you do any real police work—you were too busy shoving me around.”

Amber thrust her wrists in front of him. “Look.” Two bruises marred her pale skin.

Paul looked horrified. “What happened to you? Did somebody in the cage do that to you?”

“No, Chief Evans. You did. And you better believe that I’m filing a formal complaint.”

She whirled back toward Caleb. “Who hires the police chief?”

“Uh.” He looked from Amber to Paul. “Uh…”

“The mayor,” Paul supplied.

Just then a commotion in the hallway interrupted them. The main doors burst open. Wayside’s mayor strode in, followed by a reporter and a photographer from the Wayside Gazette and a frantic-looking Haley Brandon-Dumaine.

“Amber!”

“Paul,” the mayor bellowed. “What is going on in here?”

It took a good ten minutes to sort through what had happened.

“I’m pretty disappointed with you, Randall,” the mayor told the Revelers’ grand marshal. “I thought you all learned your lesson the last time.”

The Revelers’ last dinner-dance had resulted in a lifetime ban from the VFW hall.

“Some of us weren’t there then,” Silas called out.

It took a while, but on the mayor’s word and that of several longtime police officers, Amber was released from lockup. Haley stood with Amber as she signed the requisite forms.

“Ms. Montgomery, I’m truly sorry. It was an honest mistake,” Paul said, approaching them.

Amber’s derisive snort clearly said she wasn’t buying it.

“Will you let me formally apologize?”

Amber spun around. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, mister. First you yank me around like I’m some kind of rag doll. Now you think you can just make nice and I’ll forget about the way you treated me. Never again,” she said. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”

Those were fine words coming from someone who didn’t even know a lawyer, let alone have one.

Amber’s dramatic exit from the police station sapped the rest of her energy. By the time they got to Haley’s car, Amber felt like a rag doll that had not only been yanked around and dragged across the ground but also run through a washing machine.

“Are you all right?” Haley asked.

Amber nodded, but she stared out the passenger-side window of Haley’s car. “I need to get my stuff. My van is still at the community center.”

Haley winced. “I don’t think you’ll be able to get it. At least not tonight. Chief Evans isn’t letting anyone near there until they get photos of all the damage. When I drove by, your van was inside the crime scene tape.”

“Great, just great. How am I supposed to make my deliveries tomorrow?”

“You can take my car if you need it. I’ll have Matt drop me off at school.” Haley stopped at a red light and reached a hand out to her cousin. “Amber, I’m worried about you.”

Amber didn’t meet her concerned gaze. “I’m fine,” she said, trying to convince herself. “And I’m not going to have a breakdown, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The two women rode in silence for a moment. Then Amber, in a voice that was steady and strong, said, “The only thing on my mind is making that cop pay for what he did to me.”

Haley glanced at her. “Which cop, Amber? The one here, or the one who hurt you in L.A.?”

Chapter Two

Paul Evans pulled into his driveway after a long shift. In his three months in Wayside, this had been the first time he’d experienced any rowdiness in the small town.

And he’d take what amounted to a massive food fight over the rough and tumble of the place he’d come from. Wayside, Oregon, was a world and a culture away from Los Angeles.

He’d been given a heads-up about the Wayside Revelers, so he’d been expecting a need to cruise by their dinner-dance during his patrol shift.

The Revelers were all supposed to be retirees, or at least card-carrying members of the AARP. One in particular, however, didn’t fit that profile. Paul hadn’t been prepared for the fiery beauty who stood up to him brandishing a knife.

How was he supposed to have known she was the caterer? Her eyes flashed and she looked as if she were out for blood—his in particular. In the evidence room, he’d taken a look at that knife again. Carving knife or not, it could have done some damage had it truly been used as a weapon.

On the drive home, just one thing stuck with Paul, though, nicking his conscious, pestering his peace of mind, making him doubt what he’d seen with his own two eyes: How could he have grabbed her so hard that he’d left a bruise?

That ate at him like nothing else—even the fact that she kept saying “again.” He searched his memory, but couldn’t recall arresting her in L.A. Granted, he’d arrested a lot of people in his ten years as a cop on the street there. Maybe she’d been in the number. But surely he’d remember someone who looked like Amber Montgomery—like summer and cornfields and blue skies.

She’d caught his eye, all right.

Not remembering her as a suspect in L.A., however, didn’t bother him as much as that bruise on her arm.

The other Revelers tossed food around. Messy, yes. But not necessarily deadly. The knife wielded by Amber Montgomery, well, that piece of business was another story altogether. Despite her objection, the weapon had been bagged, tagged and put into an evidence locker at the police station.

He thought he’d let go of at least some of the wariness and care that had served him well on the LAPD. But apparently, he’d not yet gotten acclimated to Wayside and its considerably lower crime rate.

If a geriatric food fight ranked as serious crime here—serious enough to roust the mayor and get him to police headquarters—Paul had definitely settled in the right place. In a city the size of Los Angeles, only crimes like mass rioting, terrorism or a high-profile celebrity slaying ranked severe enough for top public officials to make an unscheduled appearance at police headquarters.

Yeah, he’d take a food fight any day over what he’d left behind.

Drawing a deep breath, Paul shed the cares of the job in exchange for the role that brought him the greatest sense of satisfaction.

“Hi, Eunice,” he said, walking in his front door. He un-buckled his gun belt, locked both the revolver and the belt in a closet, then tucked the key away on the chain he always wore around his neck.

“Well, howdy, Chief. Busy night, huh? I heard the Revelers got out of control again.”

He nodded. “You could say that. Thanks for staying with the kids.”

She wrapped up the knitting she’d been doing, placed yarn and needles in a large quilted bag at her side. “Not a problem. Sutton and Jonathan are fast asleep, bless their little hearts. You have two fine children there, Chief.”

Paul thought so, too. “I hope they didn’t wear you out too much.”

Eunice pooh-poohed that. “If anything, it’s the other way around,” she said on a chuckle. “We had fun.”

He pulled out his wallet.

“If you hand me any money, Paul Evans, I’m going to be mighty insulted.”

“Eunice, I can’t let you do this and not pay you.”

“You’re new to Wayside,” she said, patting his hand. “You’ll get the hang of the place soon. I left a plate of cookies for you. We made gingerbread men.”

Paul smiled. Having Eunice Gallagher living right across the street was a godsend, one of many he’d encountered in Wayside. She was the secretary at Community Christian Church, where he’d transferred his membership shortly after arriving in Wayside. A native of Wayside, she’d all but adopted him and his kids.

He helped her with her coat.

“Eunice, do you know a woman by the name of Amber Montgomery?”

The older lady beamed. “Of course! Everybody knows Amber. Don’t tell me you haven’t had one of her honey pecan rolls yet.”

“Honey pecan rolls?”

Eunice laughed. “Goodness, how in the world have you lived here for three months and not had one of those yet? Tell you what, I’ll swing by the inn tomorrow and get you some if they’re not sold out by the time I get there. You’re in for a treat.”

He was still trying to understand. “Wait, so she’s the town baker?”

Eunice picked up her knitting bag. “No. She’s a gourmet chef. She runs a catering business called Appetizers & More, but most people know her for the honey pecan rolls and her lemon meringue tarts.” Eunice smacked her lips. “Talk about delicious.”

Since he’d been hit with potatoes and not tarts, Paul couldn’t agree or disagree. He thought back to Amber’s earlier behavior, though, if she hadn’t looked so dazed, he’d have sworn she’d played a tactic used by nonviolent protesters. That going limp bit had been used for decades.

“Shock,” he surmised. She had to have been in shock. Law-abiding citizens could be counted on to react in one of two ways—outrage or polite pacifism—while they waited patiently or impatiently—for things to get sorted out.

He’d spent so many years working the violent streets of South-Central L.A. that he’d forgotten about law-abiding citizens. Tonight wasn’t the first time he’d had a knife in his face. But it probably was the first time in his law enforcement career that the brandisher hadn’t tried to slice him with it.

Paul felt bad—really, really bad—about the bruise he’d put on her arm.

After he watched Eunice cross the street, open her door then flick her front porch light, Paul looked in on his sleeping children. Sutton, whose teddy bear Bentley and rag doll Angel cuddled close to her, looked like an angel herself. Her blond curls spread out over the pillow.

She looked a lot like her mom. Paul’s heart constricted at the thought.

He stood watching her for a while. Then he placed a kiss on her head and whispered “I love you” to the sleeping child.

A bathroom connected the two bedrooms, and the doors always remained open. On the countertop sat Wally, another of Sutton’s stuffed toys—this one a rainbow fish.

With a small chuckle, Paul greeted Wally. “So you’re on the night watch this evening.”

Paul walked through to Jonathan’s room where lights blazed overhead and at the boy’s desk. Sprawled on his twin bed with its cartoon-character sheets, Jonathan had, as usual, kicked all the covers off. Paul tugged the sheet and light blanket up.

The boy stirred. “Izzat you, Unca Pa?”

Paul smiled, easily translating the sleep talk. “Yeah, sport. It’s me. I’m home. Go back to sleep.”

Jonathan sat up, bleary eyed. “Tried to stay awake. Protect the women.”

“I know, sport.”

His heart went out to the child. Paul hugged him close, then settled him down and tucked him in. “I’ll take over the watch now. All right?”

Jonathan murmured his assent and closed his eyes. Paul leaned down, pressed a kiss to the boy’s head, then turned off the lights in the bedroom.

The bathroom lights stayed on at night. Always. They helped chase the bad guys away.

Amber didn’t have an answer to Haley’s question. No doubt about it, she’d flashed to Raymond Alvarez tonight, at some point confusing the two men, the two situations. Miles away from her former terror, she thought she’d put it all behind her. Until tonight.

The height, the uniform, the eyes…

She shook her head, again thinking of Paul Evans’s eyes. Were they the same deep Mediterranean blue as Raymond Alvarez’s? She couldn’t remember, but the police chief’s were somehow different. Kinder maybe?

No, not kinder, she decided. Compassionate. Though he wore the uniform and carried the gun, Paul Evans’s eyes had regarded her with warmth. Raymond’s eyes, like his soul, were hollow, devoid of any human warmth or consideration. He was a heartless snake in the grass, and it had taken a long time for her to realize that. Too long.

“Would you like me to stay with you tonight?” Haley asked.

Amber shook her head. If there were any ghosts that needed exorcising, she’d do it alone. “No.”

“How about staying over with me and Matt? The bed in the guest room is mucho comfy.”

That got a small smile, but Amber shook her head again. “I’m all right.” And she truly believed she was. She rubbed her upper arm where the cop had gripped her.

“Maybe we should swing by the hospital and have that looked at.”

“It’s just a bruise, Haley,” Amber said. “I’ve survived much worse.”

There was nothing Haley could say to that.

After Haley dropped her off, Amber let herself into her apartment.

Once before she’d been a victim. Never, ever again. Anger still propelling her, and before the fear kicked in, she drafted a letter demanding an investigation into the unnecessary force used by the police chief of Wayside, Oregon. It felt good, too, to lambaste him in writing for the way he’d manhandled her.

In the morning, she’d mail copies to the mayor, the town council, the editor of the Wayside Gazette and the news department at the radio station she listened to. Amber knew that letting off steam in the letter was healthy—a much better response than when she used to pretend that nothing was wrong, that her feelings or her body hadn’t been physically violated.

Surveying her handiwork, she nodded, satisfied, then put the letters in envelopes and stamped them. Then, with every light on in her house, Amber sat in a deep chair, arms curled around her legs.

Eventually she fell into a fitful sleep.

Morning came quickly. She ran five miles to get the kinks out of her body and to chase away the shadows of the previous evening. The fresh air of an early Oregon morning did wonders in restoring her self-confidence. She’d face down this day and whatever it delivered with a new determination, a new purpose.

The lesson of last night, Amber decided, was a test of her commitment to rebuilding her life post-Raymond. It had taken three years—three long, liberating years—to get where she was today. Amber had no intention of letting one bullying police chief bring her down again.

After returning from her run, she showered and tried to shrug off the vestiges of the previous night’s trauma. Next to running, which she did at every opportunity, Amber’s all-time favorite stress reliever was working in her kitchen. Today she got to do something fun, something she enjoyed. She mixed up the basic dough for sugar cookies and chocolate chip cookies.

Using a light frosting, she decorated the sugar cookies once they were baked, with whimsical designs. It was time to pack up the cookies that were ready. She lined a large basket with a red-and-white gingham cloth and alternated layers of chocolate chip and sugar cookies.

She pulled a clean apron with the logo of her Appetizers & More company out of a drawer. She added a miniature version of it to the stack of stuff she’d need. Then, with basket in hand, she headed outside. That’s when she remembered her van wasn’t out back where it was supposed to be, but still at the community center. She couldn’t very well make deliveries on her bicycle.

Frustrated, Amber returned to her apartment and called Caleb, told him where the extra key was hidden under the tire carrier, and listened to a lecture about leaving a spare key where any common criminal could get it.

“Like we have common criminals in Wayside,” she muttered.

“Amber, there are criminals here.”

“And one of them wears a badge that says ‘Police Chief,’” she retorted. “Are you going to get my van or not?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “I’ll get it.”

She wasn’t about to tell him that, during the bad time, she’d taken up the practice of keeping a key hidden on her vehicle, never knowing if she might have to escape with just the clothes on her back, that spare key her only route to freedom.

It had come to that.

Thanks to Police Chief Paul Evans, those memories, ones she’d managed to suppress in order to make it through each day, now lay right on the surface, taunting her again. Reminding her that a woman was never truly safe.

Fifteen minutes later, Caleb drove up in her van, a Wayside squad car behind him. Amber couldn’t see who sat behind the wheel.

“Sorry about the inconvenience, Amber.”

He smiled a shy smile and handed her the key. “Where you headed today?”

“Over to Sunshine and Rainbows,” she told him. “Hold on a sec, I’ll be right back.” Amber dashed back to her apartment, tucked a couple of cookies in a small waxed paper sleeve, sealed it with one of her company stickers and picked up her cookie basket.

Back downstairs, she handed Caleb the cookie bag.

A big grin split his face. “Thanks, Amber.” He glanced back at the squad car. “Do I have to share?”

“These,” she said holding up the basket, “are one way for the kids to learn about sharing. So the answer to you is yes.”

The cop groaned and Amber laughed. “Thanks for bringing the van over.”

“Not a problem. The chief’s really sorry about—”

Amber held up a hand. “Don’t even mention him in my presence.”

Shaking his head, Caleb glanced back at the squad car. “But, Amber, he’s a good guy. Really.”

She slid open the side door and tucked the cookie basket inside. “If you really want to show me that you’re a good guy,” she said, “you’ll help me load up the rest of the van.”

Looking over his shoulder again, Caleb shrugged.

Not waiting for an answer from him, she headed back inside to get the two additional deliveries she had to make: one to the Wayside Inn Bed & Breakfast, and the other, a special order, to the Train Depot.

A few minutes later, Caleb slid the tray for the inn into the specially designed rack in the van. “Amber, I really think you should reconsider about Chief Evans.”

She faced him, her expression serious. “Caleb, if you want to remain friends, and I hope you do, you’ll not mention the police chief or your unfortunate choice of occupation in my presence. Comprende?”

The cop nodded.

“All right, then. I’ll see you around.”

She left him standing in front of the house where she rented a second-floor apartment.

Caleb went back to the waiting squad car and got in the passenger seat.

“She’s still pretty steamed at you, Chief.”

“I gathered as much from your frantic waving. What’s she doing?”

“Making deliveries. I can’t believe you’ve been here for three months and you haven’t had one of her honey pecan rolls.” The cop smacked his lips together. “Delicious.”

“So I’ve heard.” Paul pulled onto the street to head back to the station. “She shouldn’t leave spare keys on her vehicle. That’s just inviting trouble.”

Caleb broke the sticker seal on his treat and counted his cookies. Two. He glanced at the chief sitting next to him.

“What?” asked Paul.

“I only got two.”

“Two what?”

“Cookies. She said I had to share.”

“Cookies?” In a flash, Paul knew just where one of her deliveries would be made. For the last month, Sutton and Jonathan had been raving about the Cookie Lady at their after-school program. She came once a week. From their description—soft and funny, and “she smells good”—that from Jonathan—he’d come to the conclusion that the Cookie Lady was a sixtyish grandmother who spent her retirement baking cookies for the town’s kids.

If, as he suddenly suspected, Amber Montgomery was the Cookie Lady…Jonathan was partly right. Paul could claim firsthand knowledge of the soft part. But the Amber he’d met smelled like beets, beef and lemon meringue. And there’d been nothing funny or entertaining about last night.

Breaking off a teeny, tiny bit of chocolate chip cookie from the large treat, Caleb offered it to Paul.

“What’s this?”

“Well, she said I had to share. But if she knew you were the person in this car, I don’t think she’d want you to have any.”

Paul snorted. “You’re probably right.” He glanced at the sliver. “This is your idea of sharing?”

Caleb bit a piece of his much larger cookie, closed his eyes and moaned. “I’d marry that woman in a heartbeat if she were interested.”

That comment earned him a quizzical look.

“She doesn’t date.”

Paul grinned. “Maybe you’re not her type.”

Caleb smiled back. “That may be so.” He waved the last bite of the first cookie at Paul, then popped it in his mouth. “But I’m the one with the cookies.”

Chapter Three

Amber’s trademark honey pecan rolls went to the inn, then she dropped off a baker’s box filled with miniature versions of the sweet rolls to the Train Depot, a gallery in town that showcased model trains and railroad memorabilia.

Amber’s little business was growing. Soon it would be time to consider expanding, maybe finding a space to rent or building a Web site. But she liked being a small, one-woman operation. That way, she didn’t have to depend on anyone else. Self-sufficient. That’s how she described herself.

And that fit in more ways than one.

Appetizers & More by Amber didn’t have any employees. But Amber did have two faithful college students who, for a flat fee and a meal, helped her out with some of the larger events.

“Oh, no!” She’d forgotten to check on Dana last night. She couldn’t recall seeing her at the police station. So maybe she’d gotten away before the police roundup.

If she got caught in the dragnet, Dana probably got as much of a kick out of it as that little man Silas.

Amber didn’t like or trust cops. The only reason she tolerated Caleb Jenkins was that she’d gotten to know him first as a fellow runner and then as the instructor in a karate class she’d taken shortly after moving to Wayside. It had been almost six months before she found out what he actually did for a living. By then, she’d learned to trust him. A little.

That thought led her right back to Paul Evans, and her mood soured.

The Cookie Lady couldn’t greet the kids at Sunshine and Rainbows looking or acting like Oscar the Grouch. So she deliberately forced out of her head all thoughts of a tall, broad cop with steely blue eyes.

At least, that’s what she told herself.

But she did make a quick cell call to check on Dana.

“Wasn’t that a riot? Those old folks really tore up the place. Hey, what happened to you?”

Amber quickly explained about getting caught in the roundup.

“Well, I’m glad you’re okay. I gathered up all the serving utensils and your knife kit. A knife is missing, though. I looked everywhere.”

Amber rolled her eyes. Her best—translation, “most expensive”—carving knife was safe and sound…in police custody. “Don’t worry. I know where it is.”

“Whew, that’s a relief. That’s the one thing they teach us to guard like Fort Knox.”

Amber made a note to get Dana a good wrap the next time she went to her favorite cook’s supply store in Portland. Just like barbers and beauticians, every professional chef traveled with a personal kit that carried the tools of the trade. Amber had seen it all used, from heavy-duty toolboxes purchased at hardware stores to carryall bags that looked like sling packs. She preferred wraps that had slots for every knife and easily rolled up.

Of course, that numbskull police chief wouldn’t know anything about what a chef needed to do her job. He just made assumptions, and probably would have snatched her kit as evidence if Dana hadn’t rescued it. Amber assured Dana she’d swing by the college, pick up her knife kit and give Dana her pay.

“And I’ll add a little something extra,” she told the young woman. “When I asked you to help, I didn’t know I needed to provide combat-duty pay.”

Dana laughed. “Hey, I’m not gonna turn it down. I’m a starving college student.”

“Starving, eh?”

The plump Dana, who always complained that she gained three pounds every time she worked for Amber, chuckled. “Well, you know. Amber, I can’t thank you enough for this opportunity,” the college student gushed. “I have a blast when I work for you.”

Amber grunted. Seeing her food thrown around like garbage, then being arrested didn’t exactly rank in her book of top ten ways to have fun. “Different strokes for different folks, I guess.”

On the short drive to Sunshine and Rainbows After-School and After-Care Center, Amber did some deep breathing exercises, trying to center herself again. It didn’t work. But when she walked through the doors of the kids’ center, her spirit soared.

Delighted squeals and children racing each other to clamp themselves around her legs could do that to a woman.

“Well, hello there! With that kind of welcome maybe I’ll have to come here more often.”

One child, while clearly excited, hung back from the others. Amber smiled at her. “Hi, Sutton.”

The girl beamed, but didn’t say anything.

“Come on, you guys, let the Cookie Lady through.” Marnie Shepherd shooed kids away. “Why don’t you go get your mats and show the Cookie Lady how good little boys and girls greet guests?”

The kids raced off, and Amber laughed. Sutton glanced over her shoulder at Amber. She sent the little girl a three-finger wave.

“You do have a way with them,” Amber said to Marnie.

Shaking her head, Marnie smiled. “You’d think they’d never had cookies before. It’s good to see you again, Amber.”

The two women headed to the area where once a week Amber sat in a rocking chair, read a story to the kids, then passed out cookies from her basket. She took pleasure in the activity and always suspected that she got more out of it than the kids did.

“Hey, I have all but three permission slips back for next week. And,” Marnie added, pleased with herself, “there are four parent volunteers to make sure things stay under control.”

“I’m impressed,” Amber said. “But remember, we’re not really baking. The no-bake cookies are pretty easy. It’s mostly just mixing ingredients. We won’t need that much help.”

“Oh, yes, we will.”

Amber shrugged. What did she know about kids? “If you say so.”

She paused at the aquarium, mesmerized as the fish in the huge tank swam by. Watching tropical fish could be the most calming thing.

A little boy approached. “Come on, Cookie Lady. We’re all ready.”

“Well then, let’s get started.”

Amber followed her young escort to the section of the room designated with a colorful banner proclaiming it Story Corner.

Some of the children tried to put their mats in front of others to claim a seat closer to the rocker where she’d sit. Amber smiled as one of the aides got them all settled, assuring everyone that they would be able to both see and hear the story. Looking over them, Amber’s gaze fell on Sutton.

She liked Sutton. The quiet little girl with the strawberry-blond curls reminded Amber of herself at that age. All pigtails and wide eyes, Sutton never said a lot, but Amber could tell she was bright; the child’s eyes never missed a thing and she’d unselfconsciously laugh at a joke until someone noticed her, then hide her face. The girl’s older brother always hovered near, keeping her in sight like a miniature bodyguard.

Amber smiled, wryly this time, for that, too, was a familiar scene. Her own older brother had always assumed the role of champion and protector—whether she had wanted him to or not. When she’d really needed a protector, however, Kyle had been half a world away. She’d neither seen nor heard from him in about five, maybe six years, and since she remained incommunicado with her parents, who probably knew his whereabouts, there existed little chance of finding him.

As she watched the boy—she believed Jonathan was his name—bend over and tie the little girl’s shoes, Amber realized just how much she missed Kyle. Moisture filled her eyes and she blinked rapidly to dispel the tears that threatened.

“Amber?”

“Huh?” She wiped at her eyes and glanced over at Marnie.

“Are you all right?”

Amber nodded, then forced a grin. “Fit as a fiddle and feeling fine.”

After placing the cookie basket on a low table, Amber took her seat in the rocker and addressed the children. It was an effort to dispel thoughts of Kyle, but she put a real smile on her face and in her voice.

“Today, Miss Shepherd tells me that my helper will be from the five-year-old class. All the five-year-olds, raise your hands.”

About eight little arms shot up in the air.

“Oh, my. I’m the lucky one today. So who will it be?”

“Me! Me!”

Marnie stepped up with a paper bag. “Have a seat, Junior. You know the rules.”

Each time the Cookie Lady—or any special guest—paid a visit, one child got to be the helper. The special role rotated among the age groups. All the children wanted to be the helper when the Cookie Lady came. Being her assistant meant getting to wear a special apron as well as receiving an extra cookie.

Marnie shook the bag with the five-year-olds’ names in it. Then, with her eyes squeezed shut, Amber stuck her hand in the bag and pulled out a slip of paper. She read out the name written in blue crayon: “Sutton.”

The little girl’s eyes widened. Then, suddenly unsure, she scuttled back. Her brother was right there.

“It’s okay, Sutton. You get to be the helper today.”

Amber held out a hand. “I have the Cookie Lady apron for you to wear. Would you like that?”

The girl nodded.

Amber held it out. Sutton got up and put her hand in Amber’s. The two smiled at each other as they donned their aprons.

Sometimes in addition to passing out cookies, the helper turned pages in the storybook. Amber whispered something to Sutton, who nodded and whispered something back. Then Amber started reading the story.

Today’s tale came straight from the barnyard and required a lot of animal sound effects.

Paul dropped Caleb off at the police station, then continued his patrol of the town. Even though he served as chief of police, a job largely administrative in a town the size of Wayside, Paul had put himself in the patrol shift rotation after he got acclimated to the day-to-day job as chief. He wanted to get better acquainted with the Wayside community and its residents, and there was no better way to do that than work patrol. And in East Wayside, a section more prone to crime, he walked a beat, getting to know people.

Today, though, since the center was near his patrol area, he decided to swing by to see if Caleb’s cookie lady was indeed the Amber he’d met last night. Sutton and Jonathan raved about the Cookie Lady. Paul wanted to see for himself. Maybe last night had been an aberration.

Where his kids were concerned, Paul had to admit to being an overly protective and cautious parent. He’d checked out several programs before choosing Sunshine and Rainbows. Three different people, including Eunice, had recommended it. It was going well, so far. He’d even signed up to be a parent volunteer when they had a cooking lesson next week.

Paul strode into Sunshine and Rainbows and greeted the aide who manned the front desk.

“Hi, Chief Evans. Did you come to check on the kids?”

Paul took off the Wayside Police Bureau cap he wore and tucked it in a pocket. “I was just in the area,” he said, feeling a little guilty since he’d deliberately put himself in the area. “Thought I’d stop by. How’s everything going?”

“Just fine,” she said with a grin. “The Cookie Lady is here.”

Paul bit back a smile. This grown woman sounded as delighted about that as Sutton and Jonathan had been the last time this infamous Cookie Lady put in an appearance.

“Everybody’s in the activities room,” she told him. “She just started reading not too long ago. If you hurry, you’ll get to hear some of the story.”

“I think I will,” Paul said.

He headed to the center of the U-shaped building. Classrooms and nap rooms ringed the perimeter, but the center of activity was the core of the horseshoe, a large room subdivided by a hundred-gallon aquarium to the right and a bunny cage to the left.

The fish usually caught his eye and gave him a reason to pause. But not today. His gaze zeroed in on the story corner.

What he saw floored him.

Like peacocks showing off their plumes, Amber Montgomery and his daughter strutted around, clucking and fluttering their arms. The children sitting on mats on the floor giggled, some of them rolling over on the floor laughing.

The sight of Amber and Sutton stopped Paul cold for two reasons. Sutton never, ever opened up like that. And the two of them together had to be the most adorable sight he’d seen in a long time.

Chapter Four

After finishing their clucking, Amber and Sutton turned back to the storybook. Amber read a page of the barnyard tale. Sutton, lifting the book high so everyone could see the pictures, spotted him.

“Daddy!”

Amber looked up.

Paul knew the exact moment when Sutton’s greeting registered with Amber and she recognized him.

Her eyes shuttered and the light so evident a moment ago disappeared. She swallowed, and he watched as a shudder seemed to move through her. She held his gaze—almost defiantly, Paul decided—then deliberately turned her attention back to the children and the book.

“Hi there, sweetheart,” he said to Sutton.

“I’m the helper today.”

“Is that a fact?”

Sutton smiled and nodded, her pigtails bobbing. Paul’s heart wrenched. It had been so long since he’d seen her animated—or talkative. And the woman who’d made it so was the very one who even now surreptitiously inched away from the girl. But was it really away from Sutton, or was it away from him? Paul was afraid he knew the answer.

Some people just didn’t like cops. He needed to apologize to her again, and today was his opportunity. After she passed out the cookies, he’d have a word with her. But Paul watched her withdrawal and wondered what she was hiding—and why he took her rebuff personally.

“Cookie Lady, are you going to finish the story?”

Amber jerked as if she’d been pinched. “I… I… Yes.”

She reached for the book Sutton held and tried to see beyond the police chief, who suddenly stood much closer than she liked. She stuck her head in the book, anxious to finish the tale so she could escape. But her skin grew clammy and she lost her grip on the book.

Sutton caught it and glanced at her. “We still have three more pages, Cookie Lady.”

Amber gave the girl what she hoped was a smile, then quickly read the remaining pages of the book. She closed it and hopped up while the children applauded. Rubbing her hands against her apron she asked, “Who’d like a cookie now?”

Every child’s hand shot straight up. Amber lifted the napkin from the basket and carefully handed the cookie basket to Sutton. “Do you know what to do?”

Sutton nodded. “Everybody gets one cookie. At the end, I get two.”

“That’s right,” Amber said. Taking the little girl’s hand in her own, Amber led her to the front row of children eagerly awaiting the treat. Then she excused herself.

“Amber?”

“Miss Montgomery?”

Amber ignored both Marnie and the police chief. She headed straight to the rest room, a place to which she knew he wouldn’t follow her.

She closed herself behind a stall and leaned her head against the door.

Breathe, she coached herself. Breathe.

Her pulse pounded. She felt as if she’d been dumped into the middle of a marathon.

She tried to convince herself that she was in no physical danger from him, that she’d simply overreacted. But she couldn’t get her heartbeat to slow down, or her fear to subside.

A knock on the stall door made her jump. “Who is it?”

“Amber, are you okay?” Marnie asked through the door. “What happened?”

“I’m…fine,” she said, a hitch in her voice.

“You don’t sound fine,” Marnie persisted. “And you looked like you were about to faint out there. Would you like some water?”

“No, thank you.”

For several minutes, the only sound in the rest room was Amber’s breathing. Amber’s feet hadn’t moved from the edge of the door where she stood.

“Amber, are you okay? Come out. Please.”

“I will.” But she made no move to unlatch the door.

Marnie knocked again. “Amber?”

Amber closed her eyes and tried to remember everything she’d been taught, tried to recall some of the deep-breathing exercises she’d learned.

“Amber, you’re scaring me.”

She forced herself to face her fear, and slid the lock free.

Marnie reached for her hands and clasped them in her own. “You’re freezing.”

Amber tried to tug her hands free. “I’m fine. Really. I just…” She shrugged, unable to finish the explanation, sure that Marnie with her perfect life and perfect job wouldn’t be able to understand her problem, let alone identify with it.

Marnie pulled Amber toward the sink. She ran cool water and made a compress from paper towels that she then pressed on Amber’s forehead. Then she ran warm water and plunged Amber’s hands under the steady stream. She rubbed Amber’s hands, getting the blood circulating again.

“Does that feel better?”

Amber nodded, and Marnie handed her a paper towel to dry her hands.

“You want to tell me what’s going on? You ran out of there like something was on fire.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Amber said automatically.

If she kept telling herself that, maybe she’d eventually believe it.

For a moment, it seemed as if Marnie would let it go….

“I want you to know I care about you, Amber. You do good work here with the kids. I’d hate to lose you.”

“What makes you think I’m going somewhere?”

Marnie stilled her hands and stared at Amber. “I see it in your eyes. You look scared and ready to bolt.” Then their gazes connected in the mirror above the sink. “What can I do to help you?”

Amber shook her head. “Nothing.”

“I think I know what’s wrong.”

“I doubt it,” Amber said.

“Yes, Amber. You see, it takes one to know one.”

“Is the Cookie Lady coming back?”

Paul glanced at one of the aides who’d stepped in after both Amber and Marnie Shepherd disappeared.

“I’m sure she will,” he told the child.

“Hey, Chief Evans, can I take a ride in your police car?”

“Maybe next time, Max.” He bit back a smile at the boy’s excited grin.

“Tomorrow?”

“Maybe not that soon.”

“Okay,” the boy said, confident that the promise extracted from the police chief would eventually be fulfilled.

Sutton finished passing out the cookies and brought the basket to the front of the Story Corner. She placed her two cookies on a paper napkin, then carefully folded the two cloth napkins, bringing as much care to the job as Amber would have, as she placed them inside the basket. She then put the basket on the table next to Amber’s rocker.

“I was the helper today, Daddy.”

Paul squatted down and gave her a hug. “And it looks to me like you did a terrific job.”

“I get two cookies.” She offered him one. “Would you like this one?”

Paul took a bite and munched on it, savoring every bite.

Wow. No wonder Caleb was so opposed to sharing. He glanced in the direction of the rest rooms.

His radio squawked. Paul pressed the speaker button at his shoulder unit. “Go ahead.”

“Chief, we’ve got a domestic in progress on Patterson in East Wayside.”

“On the way,” Paul answered.

“Daddy, what’s a domestic?”

“Domestic disturbance. Right, Chief?” Max piped up. “Somebody’s hitting somebody.”

Had it been any other kid, Paul would have been disturbed at the child’s knowledge. But Max Young came from a long line of law enforcement officers. “Right, Max.”

With a final glance toward the place Amber had skittered off to, Paul said farewell to the children and to the aide. He hugged Sutton and placed a hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. “I’ll see you guys soon, okay?”

Jonathan, who didn’t care for public displays of affection, edged closer to Paul. “You’ll catch ’em, right?”

“Catch who?”

Jonathan motioned for Paul to get closer. He leaned down and watched the boy look to his right and left. “The domestic disturbance. You’ll get the bad man, won’t you?”

Paul blinked, sudden moisture in his eyes. He wrapped an arm around his son’s shoulders and pulled him close for a hug. “I’ll get ’em, Jon.”

Marnie peeked out the bathroom door. “He’s gone.”

“I’m not afraid of him.”

“Uh-huh,” Marnie said. “That’s why we’ve been in here ten minutes.”

“I need to go.”

Marnie stopped Amber with a hand on her arm. “Whatever’s going on, Amber, I’m here for you and so is the Lord. I’m keeping you in my prayers.”

Amber opened her mouth to say something, thought better of it, then slipped from the rest room. Her Cookie Lady persona cloaked around her again, she bid farewell to the children, thanked Sutton for her help and got a huge hug in return.

Startled, Amber didn’t quite know what to do. Then she wrapped her arms around the girl, fusing both of them in the much-needed embrace. “You take good care now, okay?”

The little girl nodded. “I love you, Cookie Lady,” Sutton whispered in her ear.

Astounded, Amber blinked. When was the last time she’d gotten unconditional love? Swallowing hard, she smiled at the girl, tugged on a pigtail and hightailed it out of Sunshine and Rainbows.

Who knew delivering cookies and reading a story could be just as dangerous to her state of mind as catering a Wayside Revelers’ event?

When she got home, two messages awaited her.

She pressed the button on her answering machine, then tucked away the cookie basket and put the aprons in a laundry bin.

“Hi, Amber.” Haley’s voice rang out. “I was just checking in. I’ll try to catch you later. Wanted to ask you something.”

“More like checking up on me,” Amber said, as the machine beeped and forwarded to the next message.

“It’s me again,” Haley said. “Can you join us for dinner tonight? Matt’s going to grill.”

Amber’s mouth watered at the thought. She was a whiz in the kitchen, but Matt Brandon-Dumaine worked wonders on a barbecue grill. She could hear his voice in the background. Then Haley laughed on the recorder.

“Matt says to tell you if you come over he might, emphasis on the word might, share one of his secret barbecue sauce recipes with you. Steaks and chicken go on the grill at six. Hope you can make it.”

Amber smiled. She had to give it to Haley—her cousin never stopped trying to get her to live a little, to do some socializing in Wayside.

But Amber had no interest in developing any close ties beyond those she needed to make and maintain her catering company. She’d learned the hard way that friends and even family—Haley excepted, of course—couldn’t be counted on to be there in a pinch.

Just one person had Amber’s best interests at heart: Amber.

She could tolerate having dinner with Haley and Matt or a cup of coffee with Kara Spencer, her longtime friend and sometime therapist. Beyond that, Amber wasn’t interested. She couldn’t afford to be.

On her arrival at the barbecue, her eyebrows rose as she noted the number of cars in front of Matt and Haley’s large house. And the moment she walked into the living room, Amber realized she’d been set up. Not only that, but it was a setup operating on two fronts.

“Hi, Amber!”

Trapped.

Too late to turn and head back out the door.

“Hello, Caleb,” Amber greeted. “Funny seeing you here.”

She cast her eyes toward her cousin, who merely smiled sweetly as she presented a tray of almost depleted hors d’oeuvres to Cliff Baines, Reverend Cliff Baines, pastor of Haley’s church.

A single guy and the preacher. Great, Amber thought. Just great. Maybe instead of eating dessert, they could just get married.

“Why don’t you replenish that,” Amber suggested, as Haley came around with the tray. “I’ll help you,” Amber said, lacing her voice with sweetness.

Haley wasn’t fooled, though, as she followed Amber into her kitchen.

“You wouldn’t hurt a pregnant lady,” Haley said, as the swinging door closed behind the two of them. Outside on the deck, under an awning that protected him from the rain starting to fall, Matt waved.

Amber waved at Matt, but glared at her cousin. “I’m deciding,” she said. She glanced at Haley’s stomach. “You’re not even showing yet.”

Haley lifted her hands to frame her face. “But Matt says I have a glow.”

“You’re glowing, all right. This was no spur-of-the-moment cookout, Haley. You know I hate setups.”

“What setup? It’s just a few friends.”

“Uh-huh,” Amber said. “Your pastor and his wife to hound me about not going to church, and that puppy-dog-eyed policeman.”

“Cliff and Nancy are friends. They aren’t going to hound you or anybody else. And I’d hardly call Caleb puppy-dog-eyed.”

Amber reached for and munched on a celery stick filled with cream cheese and pimento. “He reminds me of the Ebb character from Classic TV.”

Haley shook her head. “You do need to get out more. Satellite TV is addling your brain. And for the record, Caleb is also a friend. You’re family. What’s wrong with having friends and family over for dinner?”

Amber knew she wouldn’t win this round with Haley, but she had a trump card. “When you’re eight months pregnant and craving a lemon tart or a honey pecan roll, I’m going to be all sold out.”

“That’s mean,” Haley said, but she laughed.

Matt came in, greeted Amber with a “Hey, cuz” as he leaned in to buss her on the cheek, then carried a bowl of something to the dining room.

Haley moved to follow him. “Come on. Let’s get these out to everyone.”

The doorbell rang as they reentered the living room.

“I’ll get it,” Matt said.

A moment later he opened the door to Paul Evans and Marnie Shepherd.

Amber saw the pair and let out a shaky breath. Is that what Marnie had meant in the rest room at Sunshine and Rainbows? That Amber didn’t have to fear Paul because Marnie knew him to be an honorable man. Her man? They’d never really talked about personal stuff, so Amber had no way of knowing whether Marnie was seeing the police chief.

“Did you make these?” Caleb asked.

“Huh?”

Amber took her eyes off the pair at the door, turning her attention to Caleb, who was enjoying a corn fritter. “No. Haley did. Or maybe Matt.”

“They’re probably not as good as yours.”

Amber looked at Caleb as if seeing him for the first time. “Excuse me.” She fled to the kitchen.

Caleb looked from her retreating back to his boss at the front door.

“He followed me home, can I keep him?” Marnie said with a smile, indicating the police chief.

“Come on in,” Matt invited.

She knew it was a little crazy but Amber had to talk to someone right now. From the wall phone in the kitchen, she called Kara—and got an answering machine.

She slammed the phone down, then tried a little deep breathing. If she kept jumping at shadows like this she’d be a basket case, not to mention right back where she’d been three years ago when she first came home to Wayside.

Leaning against the sink, she considered her options. She could escape out the sliding glass doors and go home, or she could face her fears and walk out into that living room.

The choice, to some degree, was taken away from her when the kitchen door swung open and in walked Wayside, Oregon’s Police Chief Paul Evans.

Amber gripped the edge of the sink behind her. She assessed all of him. Tonight he didn’t wear the uniform that marked him as an officer of the law. Gone also were the gun, club and cuffs. He stood at the door in jeans, work boots and a chambray shirt. He looked more like a cowboy than a cop.

He’s just a man, Amber coached herself. You’re in a safe place. He’s just a man.

“Hello, Miss Montgomery. I waited at the day care the other day to have a word with you, but I got a call and had to leave.”

She didn’t say anything.

He took three steps forward. Amber forced herself not to flinch.

He must have noticed something because his eyes narrowed a bit, and the smile on his mouth fell a notch, not enough that any casual observer would even notice. But Amber wasn’t a casual observer. Fight-or-flight kicked in. Since he now blocked both exits, it would have to be fight.

“I don’t see how that concerns me.” She deliberately aimed for belligerent and defensive.

“I want to apologize,” he said, glancing at her arm. “About the other night. I didn’t mean to grab you or to leave a bruise.”

“The complaint letters are already mailed.” That wasn’t true, but he didn’t have to know it.

“I mistook you for one of the Revelers.”

“So I look seventy years old?”

A smile tilted the corners of his mouth and a dimple showed. “Hardly, Miss Montgomery.”

She told herself she wasn’t going to be charmed by that smile, that her guard would remain up. But she did allow her body to loosen. She’d been holding herself so erect that she’d need a masseuse to get the knots out.

“Please let me finish. I also want to thank you for something,” he said.

“Thank me? For what?”

“For bringing a smile again to my daughter’s face.”

Chapter Five

“She’s a sweet girl.”

“But she’s been through a lot. It’s not very often I see her smile and giggle and act like the five-year-old she is.”

“What’s wrong with her?” The question was out before the impertinence of it dawned on Amber. She’d always been one to speak her mind first and worry about the consequences later. The cloud that shadowed his face told her without words that she’d done it again. “Never mind,” she added. “Don’t answer that. Your apology’s accepted, Chief Evans. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

She gave him a wide berth as she moved toward the door leading back to the living room and the safety and comfort of other people.

Paul watched her retreat. He didn’t feel a need to bolster his own defense mechanisms in response to her anger; to his utter amazement, what he was feeling was a surge of protectiveness. But everything about Amber Montgomery said “woman with a past—avoid like the plague.”

He couldn’t determine if she didn’t like cops in general or if it was him in particular. Whatever the case, Amber brought out in him an interest that extended beyond the professional.

Since it clearly wasn’t reciprocated, he’d have to move on.

He hadn’t believed anyone existed who could draw the kids out of the shells in which they’d lived these past few years. But Amber Montgomery, the Cookie Lady, had done just that, not only for Sutton and Jonathan, but for him, as well.

Moving to Oregon, this little town in particular, had facilitated the healing process for the three of them. Paul hadn’t expected to find love in Wayside. But he’d hoped to find a woman with whom he was compatible, someone who could open her heart and accept not only him, but the two children he was now raising as his own.

Meanwhile, as another consideration, Marnie Shepherd was great with the kids. They liked her and the time they spent at Sunshine and Rainbows. Of course, no one would ever replace their mother, but Jonathan and Sutton still needed mothering. Every child did.

“Come on out here, Chief. The reverend is going to say grace, then we’ll eat.”

Paul joined the others in the living room where Cliff Baines waited to lead the dinner guests in prayer.

Looking around the assembled group, Paul realized just what Haley and Matt Brandon-Dumaine were up to. Their little soiree included two married couples and four singles who looked likely to be matched up. And if the episode with the cookies in the squad car served as an indicator, Caleb was well and truly infatuated with Amber Montgomery.

That meant Matt and Haley had paired him with Marnie for the evening. Paul wasn’t opposed to that. He enjoyed speaking with her at church. With her pretty smile, bubbly personality and her way with children, Marnie was an attractive woman. He’d never believed in love at first sight or any of that romantic nonsense. People got together because they were compatible. And Marnie got along well with Jonathan and Sutton. That was a good place to begin.

He moved into the small circle they’d formed for grace and looked at Marnie again. She smiled as she leaned over, telling Haley something. Paul nodded to himself, silently agreeing with the not-so-subtle matchmaking.

Maybe he would ask Marnie out to dinner and a movie. For some reason, though, Paul’s eye kept wandering to the aloof blonde with the haunted eyes. On the pretense of moving a chair, he shifted his position toward her.

Amber had been standing next to Matt, but when she bowed her head, a strong hand clasped hers. Her gaze flew to her right. Paul Evans stood there, tall, strong, his head bowed in prayer, his hand holding hers. Warmth suffused her.

She cleared her throat and tried to ease her hand from his. But he held on as the minister started to pray.

“Thank you, Lord, for bringing good friends together to share good times and good food. Amen.”

Amber opened one eye to peer at Cliff. That was it? That was his idea of grace? What about blessing the hands that prepared the meal, and three minutes of other supplications and prayer-time clichés? She knew them all.

“Amber?”

She glanced up at Paul. “Yes?” she said, surprised that he didn’t know you weren’t supposed to talk during a prayer or moment of silence.

“You can let my hand go now.”

Her gaze swept the room. The others, already having broken away from the prayer circle, headed toward the dining room. Amber’s face flamed. She dropped Paul’s hand and hastened a safe distance away.

“Steaks are ready!” Matt called out from the kitchen before she could think of a good reason to leave the dinner party.

Rain may have chased the cookout indoors, but it didn’t dampen the enthusiasm inside. Since the evening was supposed to be informal, everyone grabbed a plate and helped themselves from the feast Matt had laid out on the dining room table. Instead of settling there, Haley led the way back to the living room, where the guests spread out wherever they felt comfortable.

For Nancy Baines and Marnie, that meant the floor with the coffee table pressed into service.

Caleb perched on the edge of a chair near them. “I’ll grab some napkins for you ladies.”

When Paul and Cliff claimed two of the TV trays, Amber moved hers a bit away.

Matt got his wife situated and kissed her.

“Hey, none of that,” Amber said.

“Yeah,” Marnie added, laughing. “You’ll make the rest of us jealous.”

“I still have six months to go, but he acts as if delivery is imminent.”

“It is,” Matt said. “The time’s going to fly by.”

While Marnie and Nancy asked about baby names and nursery colors, Amber watched the byplay between Haley and Matt. A lot of love flowed between them. In their soft gazes swelling with shared affection and regard it was there for all the world to see.

Once upon a time she’d loved like that—or so she’d thought at the time. The love hadn’t flowed both ways, though, and Amber found out the hard way just how much she’d pay for that.

She supposed that some people truly were happy. But for her, love was a lie she’d learned to reject. She’d learned to simply live, day to day. And that suited her just fine.

Again and again, however, her gaze slipped to her cousin, and something akin to jealousy snipped at her, surprising her.

Keep it light, she coached herself. If she allowed what-if thoughts to intrude, she’d never make it through the evening.

For a few minutes, the four couples ate in companionable silence, the only accompaniment to their meal an instrumental CD playing in the background.

“I’ve got to hand it to you, Matt,” Caleb said. “You have grilling skills.”

“He’s supposed to reveal the sauce recipe,” Amber said. “The promise of that is the only thing that lured me here tonight.”

“Ah,” Caleb said. “And here I thought it was the thrill of seeing me again.”

“In your dreams, Jenkins,” she said.

Caleb chuckled at that.

This she could handle, keeping it casual. The easy camaraderie in the room masked the awkwardness Amber felt around Paul.

Over a glass of cider, she studied the police chief. Without the uniform, he didn’t look nearly as intimidating as he had previously. Of course, he was still tall and broad-shouldered, but that made him look solid, the sort you could depend on in a crisis.

Like Kyle.

His gaze connected with hers. Caught staring, Amber blushed and averted her eyes. She cut a piece of steak, making careful work of slicing the meat just so. When she dared, she glanced up.

He was still looking at her. He smiled.

Amber’s pulse rate leaped.

“Anyone want more potatoes?” She hopped up from her seat.

“I do,” Paul said. “I’ll help you.”

“I’m closest,” Marnie said. “Sit down, both of you.”

Before either could object, Marnie disappeared and came back from the dining room with a tray of skewered roasted potatoes with red and green bell peppers. She offered the tray to everyone, sending—at least it seemed so to Amber—a brighter, longer smile in Chief Evans’s direction.

“So, what’s going on over at Community Christian these days?” Caleb asked.

“Camp. Camp and more camp,” Nancy said. “Forty-five kids this year. We have a good crop of seniors who’ve been with us and will serve as the teen counselors, but still I worry.”

“Don’t mind my wife,” Cliff said. “She’s the overall coordinator of our annual fall jamboree and things are just a little stressful right now.”

“That’s because it’s less than a week away, and I still have two weeks’ worth of work to do.”

Cliff placed a hand on her shoulder as he passed by with a refill from the dining room. “It all comes together beautifully each year. This year won’t be an exception.”

“We’re really blessed to have so many volunteers,” Haley said. “Everyone from the church pitches in and helps in some way. And with that community grant Kara got for us this year, we’re able to do a lot more.”

Amber let the conversation flow around her. She had nothing to say and wondered just how soon she could make her escape without seeming too obvious.

If, for some silly reason, she felt another nip or two from the green-eyed monster as she looked at Matt and Haley, and even at Cliff and Nancy Baines, the preacher and his wife, she let it slide. They looked so…happy.

It didn’t matter. She didn’t go to Community Christian or any other church—and had no intention of starting anytime soon. Plus, through the years she’d had enough church camp to last her not one or two, but several lifetimes.

Amber couldn’t remember the last time she could count herself truly happy. And she now knew she’d never really been in love. Not the way the Baineses were in love. She’d been part of a couple once. And all she had to say for the experience was good riddance.

“So, how are you finding Wayside?”

The question, directed to Paul from Nancy Baines, made Amber look up from her plate.

Paul swallowed a bite of food. “Just fine, Mrs. Baines. It’s a lot different from L.A.”

Amber’s throat constricted. “You’re from Los Angeles?”

He nodded. “I needed to get Sutton and Jon out of the big city environment.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t healthy for any of us. And, where I lived and how I used to work didn’t lend itself to fatherhood. At least, not the way they needed.”

“The children are just adorable,” Nancy said. “I have Sutton in my Sunday school class.”

“Yes, she really enjoys that,” Paul said. “I’m glad I found Community Christian. That was one thing I thought I might miss about Los Angeles. Even though I worked crazy hours, I had a church family that was devoted to the gospel and family values, both incongruous notions in L.A.”

Caleb helped himself to another kabob. “The chief here was on the LAPD for—what?—about twelve years, right Chief?”

Amber gasped. Her eyes widened and her fork clattered to her plate. She stood up so fast she almost lost her balance. “Excuse me.” And she left the room.

Matt and Haley shared a look.

Cliff put his plate down. “Maybe I should…”

Haley got up. “She’ll be all right. I’ll go check on her,” she said as she headed toward the kitchen.

“Was it something I said?” Paul asked.

“Uh, don’t worry about it. I’m sure it’s just something to do with setting out dessert,” Matt said, but his look was hardly reassuring.

Spending an evening with a room full of church people, even ones she knew, wasn’t Amber’s idea of a great time, but she’d found herself laughing at the byplay among Cliff, Nancy Baines, and even Caleb, and actually enjoying herself…until just now.

He was one of them.

“Amber, are you all right?”

She shook her head. “I have to leave.”

Haley wrapped an arm around her cousin’s shoulders. “I know. I’m sorry, Amber. I didn’t realize he was—”

“It’s not your fault.” Amber stopped her. “This is my bugaboo. I have to learn to live with it.”

Amber headed to the sliding glass doors that led to the deck and yard of Matt and Haley’s home.

“It’s still raining outside,” Haley said. “Let me get you an umbrella.”

“I’ll be fine. Sorry to break up your party.”

And then she escaped into the dark night—a night a lot like one she’d tried for a long time to banish from her memory.

“I think tonight was supposed to be a setup,” Marnie told Caleb Jenkins later.

He laughed. “So it wasn’t just me getting that vibe.”

“I think now that she’s happily married and starting a family, Haley has decided to play town matchmaker.”

Caleb held the door for Marnie, who’d been dropped off at Haley and Matt’s by a co-worker.

“The thing I’m trying to figure out,” he said, “is who was supposed to be with whom.”

“I think I was supposed to be with Chief Evans. Did you see that pleased look on Haley’s face when I appeared at the door with him?”

“How did that come about? Happenstance?”

She waited until he came around and settled behind the wheel. “Something like that. He drove up at the same time I was dashing through the rain for the front door. So if Haley planned for me to get cozy with Chief Evans, that means she has her eye on you and Amber as a pair.”

“Amber is a friend.”

Marnie smiled. “Mm-hmm.”

Caleb started the car. “Have you ever thought about selling the house?”

She gave him a knowing look, but didn’t call him on the abrupt change of subject. “Yes.” The single word came out slow and long. Marnie shifted in her seat.

He glanced at her, but didn’t follow up with the next obvious question.

“It’s a lot of house,” she said. “Selling it makes sense.”

Caleb nodded, but not because he agreed with her or particularly liked the direction of the conversation and what selling that house might mean. It just seemed the right thing to do at the moment. But instead of following that thread of their touch-and-go conversation, he asked another question that had been on his mind for a while.

“So, how have you been? Really been, I mean?”

Marnie chuckled softly, relieving the sudden tension in the car. The history between them didn’t get discussed very often. “I’ll answer that if you admit you have a secret thing for Amber Montgomery.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow. He knew that to deny it again would be protesting too much.

So they drove the rest of the way to her home in silence.

Caleb didn’t regret asking the question about how she was really doing. He still wanted an answer, but maybe it was still too soon for her. Maybe it would never be the right time. He worried about Marnie. On the outside, everything looked okay, but they never talked about the thing that stood between them—the element that connected them. By not talking about Roy, they could pretend everything was just fine.

He pulled into the driveway, careful to skirt the thick tree trunk that pushed through the gravel. He knew Marnie would rather cut off one of her own limbs than cut the tree down, so at some point the driveway would have to be realigned and rerouted around the ancient oak, the only non-maple tree on Maple Street.

He came around and opened the passenger-side door, an old-fashioned habit he’d been taught as a child. Some women liked it, others made fun of him for doing it. Marnie, he knew, was in the first group.

“For the record,” he said as if they’d never stopped talking, “Amber bakes a mean cookie, but I don’t have a thing for her. And anyway, she’s not interested.”

Marnie opened her mouth to say something, then apparently changed her mind. “Thanks for the ride, Caleb.”

He nodded. “Anytime.”

He meant it, too, but didn’t know how to go further—to say the important things that stood between them.

So he saw her to the door and waited until she let herself into the house. She turned in the doorway, looking soft and vulnerable and painfully beautiful.

“Do you want to come in for a cup of coffee?”

Yes.

But he knew the way he was feeling right now, it was best if he went on his way. “No, it’s kind of late. I’ll just head on home.”

She hesitated. “All right, then. You take care. Thanks for the lift.” She turned to go, then paused. “Caleb?”

“Yes?”

She raised a hand and stepped forward. “I… I just thought you could use a hug.”

Caleb closed his eyes.

No. No. No. Yes.

She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him close. Caleb stored up every moment of the brief embrace.

“Thanks again for giving me a lift. And, Caleb, if you like her, you should tell her. Amber’s a nice girl. You take care, okay?”

When he nodded, she waved from the door and then closed it.

Caleb Jenkins stood there for a while, watching lights go on as Marnie made her way through her home, a big house made for the family she very much deserved but didn’t have.

Marnie had always been a special woman, blessed with a gift for making people feel exceptional, wanted, loved. That’s why she was such an asset to Sunshine and Rainbows. The children blossomed under her care.

There were so many things he wanted to say to her. He wished he could explain. To open up with her the way he’d always wanted to. But he didn’t have the right—had never had the right to hope for anything more than polite friendliness with Marnie. Especially now.

Making light of his social life, or lack thereof, came easy to Caleb. He dated now and then, and flirted with a few women like Amber just to keep the loneliness at bay, but nothing serious.

How could he get serious about any other woman? His heart had always belonged to Marnie Shepherd—his brother’s wife.

Chapter Six

Hours later, Amber pulled into the drive and parked behind Kara’s car. Even though Kara was engaged to a multi-millionaire, recording artist Marcus Ambrose, she still drove the same car she always had. A For Sale sign in the front yard was the only indication that any change was in the works in her life. Soon Kara would move to a new home outside Los Angeles.

Just the name of the city brought a shudder.

She didn’t have many friends and the thought of losing one of them hurt, particularly since visits to L.A. were completely out of the question. The City of Angels might be large, but not large enough for Amber to escape the memories of her years there. When she’d left, she’d vowed never to set foot there again.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.