“You surprise me, Hannah,” Letter to Reader Title Page Dedication About the Author Letter to Reader Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Epilogue Copyright

“You surprise me, Hannah,”

Adam said. “I thought I knew you.” His voice was as soft as the approaching nightfall. “I had you pegged as one of those women who was so focused on getting what she wanted, and getting it quickly, that she took no notice of anything or anyone around her.”

He smiled in the dim waning light, and Hannah’s heart ka-chunked in her chest.

“I’m coming to the conclusion,” he said, “that I may have been mistaken.”

Many moments passed in silence. Hannah didn’t know what was taking place between her and Adam. They didn’t touch. Didn’t speak. But she felt somehow closer to him. This man she barely knew had suddenly become important to her.

What was happening to her? What was this heated magnetism she felt when she was near Adam? When she simply thought of him?

She had no answers. None at all.

Dear Reader,

Silhouette Romance blends classic themes and the challenges of romance in today’s world into a reassuring, fulfilling novel. And this month’s offerings undeniably deliver on that promise!

In Baby, You’re Mine, part of BUNDLES OF JOY, RITA Awardwinning author Lindsay Longford tells of a pregnant, penniless widow who finds sanctuary with a sought-after bachelor who’d never thought himself the marrying kind...until now. Duty and passion collide in Sally Carleen’s The Prince’s Heir, when the prince dispatched to claim his nephew falls for the heir’s beautiful adoptive mother. When a single mom desperate to keep her daughter weds an omery rancher intent on saving his spread, she discovers that McKenna’s Bartered Bride is what she wants to be...forever Don’t miss this next delightful installment of Sandra Steffen’s BACHELOR GULCH series.

Donna Clayton delivers an emotional story about the bond of sisterhood...and how a career-driven woman learns a valuable lesson about love from the man who’s Her Dream Come True. Carla Cassidy’s MUSTANG, MONTANA, Intimate Moments series crosses into Romance with a classic boss/secretary story that starts with the proposition Wife for a Week, but ends...well, you’ll have to read it to find out! And in Pamela Ingrahm’s debut Romance novel, a millionaire CEO realizes that his temporary assistant—and her adorable toddler—have him yearning to leave his Bachelor Boss days behind.

Enjoy this month’s titles—and keep coming back to Romance, a series guaranteed to touch every woman’s heart.

Mary-Theresa Hussey

Senior Editor

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

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Her Dream Come True
Donna Clayton

www.millsandboon.co.uk

The “sister bond” is special and so very sacred it cannot

be broken by time or distance or even death.

This book is lovingly dedicated to

Melissa, Susan and Reneé Jeglinski.

DONNA CLAYTON

is proud to be a recipient of the Holt Medallion, an award honoring outstanding literary talent, for her Silhouette Romance novel Wife for a While. And seeing her work appear on the Waldenbooks series bestsellers list has given her a great deal of joy and satisfaction.

Reading is one of Donna’s favorite ways to while away a rainy afternoon. She loves to hike, too. Another hobby added to her list of fun things to do is traveling. She fell in love with Europe during her first trip abroad recently and plans to return often. Oh, and Donna still collects cookbooks, but as her writing career grows, she finds herself using them less and less.

Donna loves to hear from her readers. Please write to her in care of Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017.

Dear Reader,

I have always longed for a sister. However, the good Lord decided I would grow up in a house full of males. With four brothers running around like half-raised heathens, is there any wonder I was a tomboy? I could climb trees and throw a football with the best of them!

Her Dream Come True is a story conjured from my deep yearning for a sibling of the female persuasion. Someone who would enjoy a little “girl talk.” You know what I mean...conversations about boys and makeup and clothes. All the things girls like to whisper and wonder about. Oh, I had friends. But I can’t help but believe that the bond between sisters is special. Magical.

When Hannah came to life on the page, I found her to be a lot like me. Pretty self-assured. Relatively competent. A go-getter. But she had her share of vulnerabilities, too. Like I said, she was a lot like me. I can’t stress enough how surprised I was when I “created” Tammy and discovered she was mentally challenged. Tammy proved to have a thoroughly positive attitude, a sunny disposition, a naiveté that made her...well, almost ethereal, and most definitely a beautiful saul. Once she was in my head, I could no more have changed her than I could have forced the sun to rise in the west. Tammy was who she was...and I grew to love her—challenge and all!

I hope you love Tammy, too. And the unique bond these loving sisters share. Oh, my, and we can’t forget Adam. The extraordinary man who brings Hannah and Tammy together. I do hope you flip head-over-feet for him. I know I sure did!

Enjoy,

Prologue

“What do you mean I have to go to Little. Haven alone?”

Hannah Cavanaugh stared at her mother, who sat behind the massive teak desk seemingly too preoccupied with a dozen different tasks to give the topic at hand the attention it deserved. But Hannah was used to that.

“Well, I can’t possibly go,” Hillary Cavanaugh said, not bothering to look up from her very own handmade A List of the most prominent of New York City’s social set. “You know how busy I am. If I miss an opening night or a television interview or even a silly photo shoot, that’s grounds for terminating a publicity agent in a client’s mind. I have to be on hand to smooth out the rough spots. You know that.”

To anyone else the sigh the woman expelled would have held the perfect amount of suffering to garner the listener’s sympathy; however, Hannah didn’t miss the hollow, well-practiced quality in the expression.

“There simply isn’t a slow season in this business.”

How many times had Hannah heard that statement? How often had that excuse been used over the years to allow her mother to miss all the important events of Hannah’s life?

Stop, Hannah told herself. Mother works hard. She cares about the people she works for. She cares about you. And she’s done her best for you. Then another whispery thought nudged Hannah. She was the parent who wanted you.

After a long, deliberate pause, during which Hannah succeeded in stifling the sigh that threatened to erupt from her own throat, she said, “But, Mother, your husband has died. Don’t you think you ought to go to pay your condolences?”

“My ex-husband,” Hillary firmly reminded Hannah. “And neither of us has seen the man for twenty-five years. Besides, it’s been nearly a month since he passed away. I’m sure the funeral is long over. Unless of course those backwoods people in that little hick town hold some sort of mourning ritual that lasts for weeks.” As an aside she murmured, “Which wouldn’t surprise me in the least.”

The holier-than-thou tone of her mother’s voice rubbed Hannah the wrong way. It made Hillary sound as if she were looking down her nose at others, judging them to be something less than they were.

“But, Mother,” Hannah began, “wouldn’t it be best if you were to—”

Her mother’s silent, narrowed gaze burned straight through Hannah’s opinion like a red-hot laser beam.

“I am not leaving the city. I have clients who need my attention.” Hillary’s sudden, cool smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It won’t take you long to get your father’s affairs in order. Before you know it, you’ll be back at the hospital fighting tooth and nail for that ward nurse promotion you’ve been working toward.”

One corner of Hannah’s mouth twitched. She had to hand it to her mother. Usually when the subject of Hannah’s career came up, the derision in Hillary’s voice was much more pronounced. But not today. Hannah suspected it was because her mother was asking her for a favor. Not that there was much actual asking, mind you, but with her mother, there never was.

Coming to the conclusion that the trip south was an inescapable part of her immediate future, Hannah said, “Well, I’ll have to take care of things quickly. That promotion is important to me. I can’t be away for more than a week. Two, tops.”

“It certainly shouldn’t take you that long to arrange to sell the contents of the house,” Hillary said. “Contact an auction house. There have to be estate sales even in that no-man’s-land down there. And then list the house with a real estate agent. You don’t need to stay until a buyer is found.”

Hannah grew suddenly pensive. The question on the tip of her tongue had to be asked. However, she was not eager to bring up the forbidden subject.

She’d raised the taboo issue with her mother exactly twice in her life. The first time she’d been very young, about ten, if Hannah remembered correctly, and her mother had merely brushed aside her inquiry, acting as if she’d been deaf as a doornail. The second time, Hannah and her mother had ended up having a terrible verbal row that resulted in the longest bout of silence in the history of mother-daughter relationships. Hannah wasn’t wild about the thought of repeating the experience.

She steeled herself, knowing in her heart the question simply had to be asked.

“What about Tammy?”

Hillary’s facial flinch was nearly imperceptible. And during the long pause, Hannah was sure her mother was garnering every ounce of control she possessed.

Without looking up, Hillary said, “You’ll have to find out where she is. Check the nearest state-run institution. Find out if the state is paying her keep. I fully expect that’s what you’ll discover, since your father never could hold down a job for more than a month at a time.”

Your father. Chills clawed their way up Hannah’s spine, one vertebra at a time.

Hillary rarely used the term your father to describe her ex-husband to her daughter. On the highly infrequent occasions they talked about the man, they used his full name. In fact, that’s exactly how her mother had delivered the news when Hannah had arrived. “Bobby Ray Cavanaugh has died,” she’d said.

How had the news of her father’s death made her feel? Hannah couldn’t say, as she hadn’t allowed herself to react. Instead she’d slid the reality of the information far to the back of her mind, put herself on autopilot, so to speak. It was unwise to show emotion in front of her mother. Hillary didn’t like it. And Hannah knew her mother wasn’t above using a person’s thoughts and feelings against them at a later date. So Hannah had pushed her emotions aside as she concentrated on putting out the fires the unexpected news had set ablaze, focused on what had to be done. She’d deal with her feelings later.

“Once the estate is settled,” Hillary continued, “you can set up some sort of spending account for the girl.”

The girl. The girl. Hannah tamped down the resentment that rose in her throat as acidic as raw bile. But again she didn’t react.

Her mother couldn’t help her cold indifference, Hannah silently argued in Hillary’s defense. Complete detachment had always been her way of dealing with the situation. However, Bobby Ray’s death meant that indifference and detachment were no longer going to work.

Thoughts of Tammy seeped into Hannah’s brain until they filled up every nook and cranny. And for the first time in a very long time, Hannah felt a spark of...something come to life in her. Excitement? Joy? She couldn’t say. But what Hannah did know was that she had to get out of her mother’s office before she began spouting more detailed orders where Tammy was concerned.

“I’ll go to Little Haven,” Hannah suddenly blurted, taking a backward step toward the door leading out of the room. “I’ll take care of everything. Don’t worry.”

“well...”

Not waiting for Hillary to finish, Hannah turned away.

“...if you get into trouble, call me.”

Hillary’s words caused Hannah’s jaw to tense, her eyes to roll heavenward, and she was relieved that her unwitting reaction would go unobserved. Her mother’s concern always came with the precursor if you get into trouble. What Hannah heard in her mother’s words was, Don’t bother me unless it’s absolutely necessary.

However, Hannah actually felt grateful for her mother’s standoffish parental technique. It was that very same aloof child-rearing method that had forced Hannah to become the independent, self-sufficient woman she was.

“And, Hannah, I don’t want you—”

“I said I’ll take care of everything,” Hannah called over her shoulder, and knowing full well what her mother had been about to say, she let the door whisper shut between them with a firm click.

As Hannah headed down the hall toward the bank of elevators, she felt the spark of excitement flicker and grow into a full-fledged flame. Tammy. She was going to Little Haven to find out about Tammy. And if it was at all possible, Hannah planned to stop in for a nice, long visit.

Hillary would be mortified when she found out. Hannah was certain her mother had been about to order her not to see Tammy. However, she knew her recent assessment of the situation was correct—turning a blind eye was no longer the answer. Now that Tammy no longer had Bobby Ray, she would need someone.

Come hell or high water, Hannah intended to reacquaint herself with Tammy. And if possible, she was going to become the someone on whom her sister could depend.

Chapter One

Her car jostled and bumped as Hannah drove along the rutted dirt lane that led to her childhood home. Lush vegetation blocked the sunlight and cooled the dusty summer air. The jittering in the pit of her stomach wasn’t strong enough to be described as a full-fledged case of butterflies; however, anxiety tweaked at her enough to let her know it could easily get to that point.

She couldn’t put a name to the myriad emotions she was feeling. The memories she had of this wooded place, of the big, rambling house sitting at the end of the lane were fuzzy, like out-of-focus snapshots.

When she thought of Bobby Ray—her father, she silently reminded herself—shadowy images flashed before her mind’s eye. A tall, gentle figure. A wide and loving smile. A laugh that was as warm and lazy as a sunny Sunday afternoon. Well ... she thought she recalled a rich and warm laugh, but for the life of her she couldn’t seem to summon the sound of it at the moment. And she couldn’t recall what he looked like, either.

The love she had felt for him as a child had been overwhelming, absolutely heart-wrenching in intensity. However, she knew the memory of the love she’d felt for Bobby Ray ... for her father ... was twisted and knotted up in the pain and anguish she’d felt when she’d been whisked away from Little Haven, whisked away from her beloved daddy.

Stop it, Hannah! a sensible voice inside her head demanded. Just shut the door on all that. If you don’t, you’ll get swallowed up in self-pity, lost in the painful past, and you don’t have time for that. There are too many things that need to be taken care of.

“Think about the house.” She whispered the words aloud, as her wheels bounced over yet another rut in the dirt lane.

Shoving aside the confusing chaos of emotions conjured by memories of her father, she envisioned the house and smiled. Her childhood home was remembered as a huge dollhouse complete with a wraparound porch and fancy gingerbread trim. Over the years she hadn’t allowed herself to think about it often, but when she had, her heart never failed to swell with joyful warmth. Memories of being home with Daddy in the rambling house were her refuge during the lonely times of growing up without him, the times when nothing seemed to dull the ache of missing her father. The house in her head was glowing and beautiful and just waiting to envelope her in—

Just then she drove into a clearing, and the house came into view.

Hannah gasped, her eyes widening in shock as she brought the car to a halt.

Blinking several times, she just stared. The glowing, beautiful house in her memory was in reality a shabby, dilapidated building, its paint peeling, the shrubbery overgrown to the point that the first-floor, windows were obscured from view. One corner of the wraparound porch drooped noticeably. The Victorian house looked tired, just plain worn-out.

She sagged against the back of the seat. It looked as if her father hadn’t lifted a fingers over the years to keep the house in good repair. How could he allow his home to fall into such a state? Hannah sighed, knowing she’d probably never discover the answer to that question.

Tufts of tall grass snagged the heels of her shoes as she exited the car. She shut the door and was immediately greeted by the fattest cat she’d ever seen.

“Hello, there,” she crooned as it brushed its orange fur against her calf. But when she bent to pet it, the cat raced off toward the thick trees. Hannah straightened and lifted her gaze to the house.

All at once, she became aware of just how odd the scene looked. A big Victorian house sitting in the middle of the woods. One would think a better choice would have been a log cabin or a sensible A-frame. However—

Hannah paused, her head cocking at the sound of hammering coming from nearby. She frowned, wondering where it was coming from. She hadn’t seen a house for at least a mile as she drove up the main road. But then, she guessed there could be other houses hidden among the trees, just like her father’s was.

There was a pause in the hammering. Then it started again. The sound was closer than she first realized. Very close.

The tall grass made walking across the yard difficult in her high heels, but she eventually made her way around to the back. By the time she got there, however, the hammering had once again stopped. She looked around, even scanned the line of thick trees at the edge of the woods.

When her gaze swung back to the house, a movement caught her attention. She looked up toward the roof.

Sunlight glinted golden off tanned skin stretched taut across a broad expanse of muscular back—bare, male muscular back. The man’s weight rested on one knee, the other leg bent, his foot planted on the roof for balance. He dipped his hand into his carpenter’s apron, where, Hannah guessed, he reached for more nails. In a flash he leaned over, positioned the nail on the roof shingle and raised the hammer in a short arc. His arm, shoulder and back muscles bunched tight, then stretched, bunched and stretched with every swing of the hammer. His movements were precise, strong and forceful, yet at the same time graceful. Almost beautiful. And his one-knee, bent-over stance was the perfect posture to show off his taut, jean-clad gluteus. The professional in Hannah refused to think of those tight muscles as anything other than what they were: the gluteus maximus. But, Lord, she’d be lying through her teeth if she said that wasn’t the most perfect male butt she’d ever laid eyes on.

She inhaled a short, sharp gasp at the thought—however, her gaze didn’t waver from the sight of him up there on the roof. What was the matter with her?

Again he paused, this time actually setting down the hammer and reaching into his back pocket for a handkerchief. He swiped the square of white cotton across his forehead, and Hannah gawked as the sun caught the planes and curves of tendon and sinew of his powerful upper body.

It was then that she noticed his hands, imagining the hard calluses that must surely come with such physical labor, wondering how the rough surfaces of the pads of his fingertips might feel against a woman’s soft skin.

Her eyes widened at the thought, and at the same instant, the erotic idea caused saliva to pool in her mouth.

She swallowed and tried to look away. But she simply couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Could his chest be as perfectly formed as his back and rear? she wondered. The question had her taking an unwitting step meant to better her view of him. But the long grass caught at her heel, tripping her up, and she let out a tiny squeal of surprise. She was able to catch her balance, and most naturally, she swung her gaze back up to the top of the house only to find the carpenter looking down at her.

Suddenly she was overwhelmingly grateful for her misstep. If he’d have caught her ogling his body, she’d have been mortified.

“Hello,” he called down to her.

The corners of his mouth curled upward, his cheeks dimpled and his eyes lit with a friendly warmth. The sight of his handsome face, his charming smile, made Hannah’s mind go completely blank. The reasons for her trip south slipped from her thoughts as if her mind had mysteriously become riddled with a thousand sieve holes. If she were asked something as simple as her name, she doubted at the moment if she could provide the information.

Luckily, speaking wasn’t immediately necessary as the man picked up his hammer, slid it into a loop on his tool belt and then made his way over to the ladder leaning up against the side of the house. It took him several moments to descend to the ground, crucial moments Hannah used to calm the fluttering of her heart, steady her trembling hands, cool her most unseemly and inappropriate thoughts.

This was silly, she told herself. Her job as a nurse put her in the presence of naked male bodies nearly every day. Patients couldn’t be examined with their clothes on. So why should the sight of this bare upper torso wreak such havoc on her central nervous system and conjure such sensual thoughts?

She hadn’t time to ponder the answer before he was standing in front of her.

The man was more handsome close up than he had been way up there on the roof. The color of his eyes was an intriguing mix of blue-gray, his dark lashes making thick fanning frames. His brows were black slashes just below a strong, high forehead that was feathered with light worry lines that told Hannah he must be in his mid-to-late thirties. Perspiration from his hot work on the roof dampened the roots of his coal-black hair and glistened on the strong curve of his neck and his tanned chest. However, even though his skin had been tinged golden by the sun, the dusky disks of his nipples stood out in dark contrast.

Without conscious thought, Hannah’s tongue smoothed over her suddenly dry lips, and she blinked twice, forcing her gaze to rise to his face. The humorous glint in his eyes told her in no uncertain terms that he realized her blatant appreciation. She felt her face flush hot.

“Excuse me a minute,” he said, and then he moved past her. He picked up the end of the green garden hose coiled in the grass, turned on the spigot, bent over and doused his upper body with water. He ran his free hand over his chest, shoulders and the back of his neck. He rubbed at his face and combed his fingers through his hair, washing away the sweat from his body.

The blue jeans and work boots he wore kept his state of undress from being described as anything near indecent, still Hannah felt like some kind of sexual voyeur watching a very intimate act. A vivid image flashed through her mind, and she imagined her dream self taking the garden hose from his hand, directing the water to sluice over his chest as she smoothed her fingers over the massive shoulders.

The daydream came and went in a fraction of a second; however, she found it so utterly shocking that she squeezed shut her eyes and murmured, “You are going out of your mind.”

“Pardon?”

He’d turned off the water and tossed the end of the hose aside. Hannah watched him dry off his face and chest with his handkerchief, and then he reached down and picked up a T-shirt that lay in a heap on the lawn.

Say something, Hannah, she silently ordered. Talk about the weather, anything, just say something that won’t make this man think you’re totally insane.

“I said the day is just fine.”

Sunlight sparkled like jewels off the fat water droplets that clung to his hair. One particular liquid pearl ran along the outside edge of his ear, hovered for a moment on the bottommost curve of his sexy lobe, and then the sheer force of gravity caused it to splash onto his sun-bronzed shoulder. The instant the droplet hit, Hannah actually started, her blinking gaze lifting to his face.

Amusement twinkled in his eyes, and Hannah was left to wonder just how long she’d studied that glistening pellet. Her embarrassment grew, prickling every inch of her skin with a heated self-consciousness. And she could tell from his expression that he was enjoying her discomfort—very much.

What in heaven’s name was wrong with her? She was normally a serious, no-nonsense kind of person. A woman who would never gawk at a man. Not under any circumstances.

However, it wasn’t entirely her fault, she decided. If he’d get himself dressed, cover up that broad expanse of bare skin he was exposing, then she could keep her mind on more important issues like...his identity and what the heck he was doing here working on her father’s house, and who had given him permission to—

The thoughts bombarded her, pushing her to speak. “Who are you? And what are you doing here?”

Adam wasn’t able to completely suppress the chuckle that rumbled in his chest and tugged at his mouth. Evidently, the woman was taking on a defensive stance to cover up the blatant flirty looks she’d been giving him. In an effort to hide his humorous reaction to this new behavior of hers, he stuffed his arms into the sleeves of his cotton shirt and then took his time pulling it over his head.

He’d gotten quite a kick out of how the beautiful strawberry-blonde had been seemingly unable to take her gorgeous green eyes off his body. The current he felt sparking from her had been something akin to summer heat lightning, and it had been a long while since he had experienced its like.

After tugging the hem of the shirt, he combed his fingers through his wet hair.

“I’m Adam,” he told her. “Adam Roth. And I was up there fixing the roof.”

She planted her small fist on her narrow waist. “Well, I figured out you were fixing the roof. But why?”

This time his grin simply refused to be subdued as he obligingly supplied the obvious. “Because it leaked.”

Her wide, very kissable mouth puckered in total frustration, and Adam felt the urge to laugh, but he didn’t think it wise.

She was doing a commendable job, he decided, of keeping her gaze directed on his face; however, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that what she really wanted was to let her eyes roll up and down the length of him. It wasn’t entirely conceit that made him think this, it was the simple fact that, as they stood talking, her gaze would dip to his nose, then raise to his eyes, then it would dart to his mouth and raise again to his eyes. Her gaze had so far gotten as low as his chin.

The truth of the matter was, he found her obvious attraction to him pretty ego boosting, to say the least.

His silly answer to her even sillier question had made anger spark in her clear green eyes, and Adam decided the heated emotion only made her all the more beautiful.

“Pardon me,” she said, keeping her voice under tight control. “It seems as if I didn’t make myself clear. What I meant was, under whose direction were you up there fixing the roof?”

What was this? he wondered. An inquisition?

The suspicion in her tone took the edge off his humor. Hell, it did more than that. It pretty much grated on his nerves.

“Before I answer that,” he said, shifting his weight onto one foot and crossing his arms over his chest, “I think I’d like to know who’s asking.”

Chapter Two

The man was infuriating! Who did this carpenter, this handyman, think he was, to be questioning her right to inquire about his identity and what he was doing to her father’s house? The man was simply infuriating!

“Look,” she said, “I don’t know who you are, but—”

“I already told you who I am,” he quietly informed her. “I’m trying to find out who you are.”

For some odd reason Hannah felt a sudden reluctance to give this man any information about herself. However, she doubted he would be satisfied until she told him something about her presence here in Little Haven.

“I’ve come from New York.” Her tone was stiff. “To arrange the sale of the house and its contents. Now, if you don’t mind, would you please tell me who authorized your work and how much you expect to be paid.”

His eyes narrowed ominously as she spoke, and Hannah was only barely able to squelch the urge to back up a step.

“What did you say?”

She searched his face, wondering exactly which piece of the information she’d just disclosed had so thoroughly changed his demeanor. She was sure it must have been the fact that she’d cast a heavy shadow on the issue of his payment for the roof job.

“I think it’s only fair for me to know just how much this is going to cost me,” she said, “before I agree to pay, don’t you?”

Obvious irritation tensed his jaw muscle. His voice lowered to a grumble as he said, “I was never expecting to be paid.”

Hannah’s mouth pursed almost of its own volition, but before she could express her skepticism, he continued.

“You can’t sell the house,” he said

Ah, she thought, so that was what had upset him.

“What about Tammy? What’s going to—”

His mention of her sister sparked the flame of Hannah’s excitement—an excitement she couldn’t quell. “You know my sister? You know where she is?”

“Your sister?”

“You know where I can find Tammy?”

“You’re Hannah? Hannah Cavanaugh?”

“Can you tell me where she’s living?”

“You’re Bobby Ray’s oldest girl?”

Neither one of them was really listening to the other, so focused were they on working out the confused facts of the situation.

“Wait!” Hannah finally cried, lifting her hand, palm out, toward him. “Stop.”

It quickly became clear to her that she wasn’t going to get any useful information out of this man if she wasn’t willing to make him understand who she was and why she was here.

She heaved a sigh, her overwhelming curiosity about Tammy would have to wait. At least for a few moments.

“Yes,” she told him. “I’m Hannah Cavanaugh. Bobby Ray was my father. I’ve come from New York to pack up his personal belongings. I’m going to sell the furniture and the house and put the money away to ensure Tammy’s living arrangements.”

“You can’t do that—” The thought was cut off as another, evidently more significant, began rolling off his tongue. “What do you mean you’re going to ‘ensure Tammy’s living arrangements’? Why does she have to move at all?”

“Oh, I hadn’t planned to move her,” Hannah assured him. “She can stay right were she is. I don’t want to do anything that will upset her.”

“Well, you’re going to upset her—” his voice tightened with anger as he added “—and you’re sure as hell going to have to move her if you sell the house.”

Hannah felt blindsided by the surprising revelation. “She’s living here?”

The handy man gave a curt nod.

“B-but,” she stammered, “I was under the assumption that she...I was told to look for her...” She gazed off at the tree line, trying to regain her composure. After a moment she looked back at Adam Roth. “Tammy lived with my father?”

“For all the years I’ve known them.”

She shouldn’t feel jealous. She shouldn’t. She’d had a perfectly fine childhood. She’d been raised by a responsible parent. One who had wanted her. She was physically and mentally healthy, and for that alone Hannah knew she was far more blessed than her sister.

However, discovering that her father hadn’t put Tammy in an institution, as Hannah had been told, finding out that he’d allowed his youngest daughter to live at home when he hadn’t allowed his oldest to do the same was more than just disturbing for Hannah. It was earth-shattering.

Why? How could a father choose one daughter over another?

Unshed tears scalded the backs of her eyelids. She would not cry. Not in front of this stranger. Inhaling a deep, soul-steeling breath, Hannah shoved aside the cyclone of chaotic emotions that swirled around her.

“Who’s been staying with Tammy since Bobby Ray died?” Her voice sounded tiny and unsure, even to her own ears, and she hated the weakness she heard in it.

“No one.”

His answer shocked the life back into her. “How can that be? My sister is...special. She’s—” Hannah paused and then forced herself to be more explicit. “She’s retarded.”

Disapproval turned his eyes slate-gray. “I think the politically correct term in these enlightened times is mentally challenged.”

Hannah’s face flamed hot. “Well, whatever the term, Tammy shouldn’t be staying here on her own. She can’t possibly be capable of taking care of herself.”

“Tammy’s got plenty of friends,” he said. “People around here watch out for her.” He cocked his head to one side. “I think you should give yourself some time to get to know your sister before you start making decisions that will impact the rest of her life.”

Hannah’s spine straightened. When she wanted advice from Mr. Adam Roth, she’d ask for it.

“Time,” she said, stiffly, “isn’t something I have a whole lot of. I have to get back to New York as soon as possible. I’m up for promotion. I’m a nurse, and I could very well become the youngest ward nurse in the hospital.” An odd awkwardness crept over her for having revealed so much about herself—about her hopes and dreams—to this stranger. But he needed to know. Tipping up her chin, she boldly continued. “This might not sound like a big deal to you. But it is to me. A very big deal. I’m only telling you this to make you understand why time is of the essence. I have a lot to do and very little ti—”

“Well, you sure had plenty of time just a moment ago to eye me up like I was a prime hunk of rump roast and you were chef of the day.”

She gasped, her eyes widening. “I did no such

“Ms. Cavanaugh, if you don’t mind my asking,” he cut in again, “where’s Tammy’s mother? Shouldn’t she be the one making the decisions about the estate? She’s the person to whom we wrote the letters.”

A deep frown bit into her brow. She’d been momentarily mortified by his flippant “rump roast” remark. but what he was insinuating melted away all the embarrassment and confused her to no end. “Letters? As in, more than one?”

“Three to be exact,” he told her. “One every eight to ten days since Bobby Ray died. Hank Tillis and I thought—”

“Tillis.” Hannah whispered the name, mulling over the familiar sound of it in her mind. “You mean the lawyer, Henry Tillis?”

“That’s the one. He goes by Hank to his friends.”

“My mother showed me a letter from him dated this past Monday.”

“That must have been letter number three.” Again, disapproval turned his gaze stormy.

Her mother had received three letters before she’d acted? Hannah couldn’t believe it. But then again, maybe she could.

“You see,” she began, “my mother is a very busy woman. She’s a publicity agent. In New York City. Her clients need her. They depend on her. And they keep her busy. Her work makes it very hard for her to leave town....”

In that instant, Hannah was whisked back into her childhood where she relived a hundred awkward moments when she was forced to explain her mother’s absence to teachers, choir directors, Brownie troop leaders, even to the parents of her friends who never seemed to miss a performance night or a fashion show or the innumerable other events a child is involved in.

You are thirty years old, Hannah, she firmly told herself. Stop feeling obliged to make excuses. Heaven knows you don’t owe Adam Roth any.

“Look,” she said, keeping her tone measured yet firm, “I’m here to see to things. Tammy has me now. And I have a well-thought-out plan. Thank you for your concern, but my sister won’t be needing it any longer.” Her amiable smile bordered on superficial and she knew it. “That is, of course, if you’ve finished the repairs on the roof.”

He tossed her a withering look. “The leak is fixed.”

“Good.” She brightened even further, dismissing him by saying, “Now, you feel free to send me a bill for your work. But you’ll need to get it right to me, I don’t expect to be in Little Haven for long.”

His face was hawkishly handsome, she decided, even under the strain of discontent.

“Don’t think you can get rid of me that easy,” he told her. “The people in this town aren’t going to let you come to Little Haven and tip Tammy’s world off its axis. If you aren’t careful, you’ll send that child into a tailspin.”

He turned on the heel of his leather work boot and stomped off across the grass.

Hannah could have called after him. She could have informed him that she didn’t need his warnings. That he had no rights here whatsoever. And neither did anyone else in Little Haven for that matter. But she didn’t say any of these things. She was just glad to see the last of Adam Roth.

In fact, she was so relieved to see the man go that she wasn’t the least bit aware of how her gaze had latched on to his arrogant, sexy swagger until she’d lost sight of him when he’d turned the corner of the house. Had she been aware of the hungry manner in which she’d stared, she’d have had to admit to wearing one of those imaginary tall, white hats designating her culinary chef of the day.

Adam unbuckled his tool belt, tossed it onto the worn seat and then slid behind the steering wheel of his ancient, battered pickup. He was fuming inside. Fuming to the point that he wouldn’t have been surprised to see smoke coming out his ears if he were to glance at his reflection in the hazy rearview mirror. He felt like a caged grizzly bear who had been poked and prodded with a pointy stick.

Bobby Ray’s family had finally responded to the letters that had been sent. And Hannah Cavanaugh had come to town.

Despite his anger, a vivid image flashed before his eyes. He’d been up on the roof when a noise down below in the yard had caught his attention. At first glance, he’d thought the woman had been Tammy. But he soon discovered he was wrong.

For the rest of his life the image of Hannah Cavanaugh standing on the back lawn would be burned into his brain; the golden, midday sunlight gleaming on her coppery-blond hair, the royal blue of her formfitting dress complimenting her milky skin to perfection, her high-heeled shoes showing off shapely calves. She’d been a dazzling spectacle he wouldn’t soon forget.

However, the fact that she was a stunner didn’t make her any less irritating.

He couldn’t believe she actually meant to waltz into Little Haven and upset Tammy’s whole existence. Granted, Tammy was no child. At least, not in the state’s eyes. She was twenty-four, and had the height and build of a woman to prove her age. However, in her mind she was young and innocent, extremely naive and in need of protection.

Hannah Cavanaugh had referred to her sister as “special” and that was an apt description for Tammy. Adam would be damned if he allowed Bobby Ray’s oldest daughter, or his ex-wife, to hurt the extraordinary young woman. He’d made a promise to Bobby Ray, and he meant to keep it

Adam realized he was going to have a battle on his hands. He had no legal rights. Hank had warned him of that, over and over. But Adam didn’t care. He’d given his word to Bobby Ray. And to Adam, a man was only as good as his word and his reputation.

As he made his way down the rutted lane that would take him to the main road, a vivid picture of Hannah Cavanaugh flashed before his eyes. He may never have met the woman before today, but he knew her. Or rather, he knew her like. High-handed feminists. They came rushing into every situation so intent on fixing things, they never stopped long enough to see if those things were even broke. And the mending and adjusting they did always benefited themselves more so than anyone else.

He’d met more than his share of tyrannical, self-centered women in college and again during his political career in Philadelphia. Hell, he’d even married one of them and tried to make her happy. But he’d quickly discovered that doing so was an impossible feat. A sound of disgust rushed from his lips. Some women were so caught up in success and careers, so focused on what they intended to squeeze out of the world at large, that they couldn’t see or understand what was going on around them.

Hannah Cavanaugh had said she had to get back to New York where, she’d intimated, she had an all consuming career to get back to. He doubted she had a husband. Or children. Nope. He highly suspected she was far too focused on herself for that.

Well, he had news for the beautiful Hannah. He was making a vow, here and now. One way or another he was going to toss a wrench into those nicely greased cogs she called her plan.

A plan? A plan? Had she really told Adam Roth that she had a well-thought-out plan?

Well, she might have arrived in Little Haven with a strategy: sell the house and furniture and procure long-term housing arrangements for Tammy. However, discovering that her sister wasn’t living in an institution had changed everything.

Hannah paced across the kitchen’s worn linoleum floor as she waited for Tammy. She’d found a note taped to the rickety screen door. Apparently her sister had written it to let visitors know she’d “Gon fishing.” And that she’d “Be bak soon.” And then Tammy had signed her full name.

A smile had pulled at Hannah’s mouth when she’d read her sister’s carefully printed, block-lettered words. Hannah was pleased to learn that Tammy could write. And if she could write, she could surely read. At least at an elementary level, anyway.

It was the note that had made Hannah realize how little she knew of her sister. All she had were a few perceptions that had been based on little, and sometimes no, information. The one time she’d forced her mother to talk about Tammy, Hannah had been disturbed by what she’d learned ... and what she’d learned hadn’t been much, before the incident had turned into a huge argument.

So Tammy was a stranger. And Hannah only had a week, two at the most, in which to garner her sister’s trust.

The thought was daunting.

If you aren’t careful, you’ll send that child into a tailspin. Adam Roth’s words floated through her mind like an immutable echo.

What did he know? Nothing, that’s what. Hannah was here to help Tammy. And she wouldn’t let Adam Roth, or anybody else for that matter, keep her from her goal.

Afternoon sunlight filtered through the grimy window. Dust floated in the hot, dry air. The curtains were faded and dingy and full of what looked to be weeks’ worth of dust.

This place needed a good cleaning, and since she could just as well ponder another plan while she was washing a few dishes and wiping down the countertops as she could standing idle, Hannah set to work.

After washing what she guessed were Tammy’s breakfast dishes, she scrubbed the tabletop and the counters, too. Then she spent a full thirty minutes wiping down the massive stove. The thing was an ancient monstrosity. Hannah guessed it was one of the very first models of gas ranges ever to be manufactured.

While she rubbed at the accumulated grease, she mulled over how she would deal with this new situation. She didn’t want to upset Tammy by selling the house. But Hannah didn’t see any way around it. She couldn’t very well leave her sister here in Little Haven all alone.

Learning that Tammy had been on her own here in this house since Bobby Ray’s death made Hannah feel horribly guilty. Had her mother really received three letters alerting her to her ex-husband’s death before she’d responded? Hannah shook her head. Well, she did know her mother had thought Tammy was safe and sound in a state home.

Hannah shook the curtains out on the back porch, scrubbed the grime from the window and then hung the curtains back on their rods. And as she attacked the floor with a broom and then a mop, she continued to reflect on what she should do about her father’s estate and Tammy’s living arrangements. Maybe her mother could give her some advice.

No, came a firm, silent reply. You can handle this. Besides, every single time you ask for her guidance you always end up regretting it.

Before Hannah realized it, the sunlight was casting long shadows across the floor. The linoleum was too worn to shine, but at least she knew it was clean.

Where could Tammy be? she wondered, glancing out the now-crystal-clear window.

Hannah’s skin felt hot and tacky with dust and dirt. She went to the front of the house and up the long staircase to find the bathroom. Somehow, she just knew the house didn’t have one on the first floor.

When she stepped up onto the second-floor landing, it was like a fist struck her square in the solar plexus. She looked at the three open bedroom doors, hazy childhood memories flooding her brain.

A little girl’s laughter echoed in the silent, stuffy air. Squeals of utter delight danced a jig around her. Wraithlike giggles raced from the master bedroom to the one Hannah remembered as being her own, chased by a deeper, more masculine laugh.

The experience wasn’t frightening in the least. Because Hannah knew without a doubt that what she was hearing was in her mind. Sounds conjured solely by her imagination. Memories of happy times with her father when she was a toddler.

The delighted sounds she heard were the remnants of joyful moments she’d spent with the one person she’d loved more dearly than all others.

Before she even realized what she was doing, Hannah had pushed open the door of the master bedroom. She took a step inside and then another.

The same wrought-iron bed sat at one side of the cramped room, the heavy walnut dresser at the other. Hannah grinned, remembering how her father had chuckled at her while she’d jumped on that bed, making the coils squeak and groan. But he would always shoo her off the mattress when the sound of her mother’s footsteps were heard on the stairs. He’d chase her then, from his room to hers, where he’d tuck her into bed and sing her a lullaby.

“Oh, Daddy.” The words were wrenched from her throat, like rusty nails being torn from a piece of dry rotted wood. Hot tears of sorrow seared her eye sockets and blurred her vision.

Why had he sent her away? Why had he made her go with her mother, when all she’d wanted to do was stay here with him?

Reaching up to smooth back a strand of her hair, movement caught her eye and she swung her gaze to the left and saw her reflection in the mirror.

What is the matter with you? she chided.

She wasn’t a little girl anymore. And she’d never find answers to her questions. The possibility of that had died and was buried with her father.

Using the fingers of both hands, she rubbed away her tears. She needed to set the grief away from her. Far away from her. Surely Tammy would be home soon. How would the poor girl react to finding a sobbing, disheveled woman in her house?

“Get yourself washed up,” she ordered her reflection, feeling more in control with the renewed strength she heard in her tone. “You want to be ready when your sister arrives.”

Water from the bathroom sink was cool as she splashed it over her face and arms. She’d found a washcloth on a shelf and used it to scrub away the dust and perspiration on her skin. She was rinsing out the cloth, intending to hang it up to dry, when she heard the screen door open and then shut with a bang.

Hannah moved into the hallway and then to the stairs. She paused, her hand resting on the top of the newel post. Her heart pounded in her chest. Even though she had no idea what to expect, regarding just how mentally alert her sister would be, Hannah was so excited at the thought of seeing Tammy again. However, at the same time she felt a tinge of fear creep over her.

What if Tammy didn’t like her?

Stop it, she told herself. She’ll like you. She’s your sister.

She’ll like you, the voice silently continued, if you don’t scare the poor child half to death.

Hannah’s eyes went wide with the sudden thought. Tammy would surely be frightened to death finding someone—a complete stranger—in the house.

Keeping her steps as light as possible, Hannah crept down the stairs. She heard her sister moving about in the kitchen. And then Tammy began to sing. The angelic sound filled Hannah with warmth, and she stopped in the middle of the living room to listen. She recognized the tune as an age-old religious hymn.

“Amazing grace, how sweet the sound ...”

A loving smile tugged at the corners of Hannah’s mouth. Indecision fought a quick battle inside her—she wanted to interrupt, yet at the same time she wanted to remain where she was and listen to the beautiful song. After only a fraction of a moment, Hannah’s eagerness to meet her sister prevailed.

“Tammy?” she said softly, taking a tentative step across the threshold of the kitchen doorway.

The young woman spun around from where she stood at the sink, her gem-green eyes never losing a single measure of their merry twinkle at the sight of this stranger.

“Hi,” Tammy said, her tone expressing not fear at all but a marvelous and pleasant surprise.

Hannah’s breath caught in her throat. Her sister was lovely. No, she was absolutely beautiful. There was something...unearthly, almost ethereal, about the young woman.

Waves and waves of liquid gold trailed over Tammy’s shoulders and down her back. She hadn’t inherited the coppery-colored hair that Hannah had, hers shone a bright flaxen and was thick as could be. As Hannah looked closer, she guessed the ethereal quality she’d first noticed had to do with the innocence she saw in her sister’s gaze. A purity of heart, a guilelessness that was clearly evident at first glance.

“Hello,” Hannah said, her voice trembling with deep emotion. Memories of holding Tammy as a baby came to her... the only memories she had of her sister.

“I went fishing.”

Hannah nodded. “I know. I read your note.”

“Oh,” Tammy said. “I caught lots of trout. Enough for dinner.” Her face took on a dreamy expression. “Trout is my one weakness.”

Her face brightened as though an idea flashed in her head like a lightbulb.

“I even caught enough so that Mrs. Blake could have some for her dinner.” She grinned. “She thanked me for bringing them to her. It’s a long walk to her house.”

Tammy was so pleased with the notion of her good deed that Hannah had to chuckle.

“It was awfully nice of you to share,” she said.

Suddenly Tammy’s forehead crinkled with a frown. “Mrs. Blake is blind”

Feeling the need to commiserate, Hannah commented, “Aw, that’s a real shame.”

The young woman stuck her index finger up in warning. “But don’t go helping her too much. ’Cause she’ll snap your head off.” Then she nodded, knowingly. “Mrs. Blake is very independent. It’s best to wait until she asks you to do something for her.”

At a loss for how she should respond, Hannah simply said, “I see ... I’ll keep that in mind.”

Suddenly Hannah realized that Tammy hadn’t seemed the least bit interested in her identity. Like finding a stranger in the house was no big deal. That worried Hannah. Terribly. Apparently her sister lacked the all important protective instinct that was meant to keep her safe.

“Tammy,” she said softly, “do you know who I am?”

A quirky smile was the young woman’s first reaction.

“Silly,” Tammy said. “How can I know you when we just met?” Without waiting for a reply, she commented, “I’m hungry. Are you hungry?”

“But aren’t you concerned,” Hannah went on, “coming home to find a stranger in your house?”

Tammy shrugged. “You cleaned up really good. The kitchen looks wonderful.” Wrinkling her nose, she admitted, “I hate to clean.” Her smile returned. “I figured I should be nice.”

Hannah found this the most puerile thinking. Quietly she asked, “How do you know I was the one who cleaned the kitchen?”

Her sister’s innocent green eyes blinked. After a long moment she asked, “You did, didn’t you?”

Frustration welled up in Hannah. “Well...yes, but that’s not the point. You should be careful. How did you know I wasn’t going to hurt you? Or steal from you? Or something?”

“Oh, I knew,” Tammy assured her. Then she glanced over her shoulder where the fish fillets lay on the counter by the sink. “Are you hungry? I’m really hungry.”

“Okay, okay,” Hannah said. “You sit down and I’ll cook the fish.”

She shooed Tammy away from the counter and looked down at the snowy-white fillets. Working in the hospital fifty to sixty hours a week didn’t leave much time for cooking, but how hard could it be to—

“I like baked beans with my fried trout,” Tammy said from her seat at the table.

“You mean like pork and beans? From a can?”

Tammy nodded, pointing to the cabinet next to the stove. Hannah pulled the door open, and sure enough, she found rows of canned vegetables. She extracted one can of beans.

“And you like your fish fried?”

“Yes,” she said. Then she wistfully added, “Trout is my one weakness.”

Hannah couldn’t stop the smile that stole across her lips. “I know,” she said softly. “You told me.”

After she found flour and salt and pepper for the fish, and a can opener for the beans, Hannah set to work. She wondered how she could explain to Tammy who she was and why she’d come. Easing into the issue seemed like the best solution.

“You know, Tammy,” she began, “I’ve come from New York City to see you.”

“I’ve never been to New York City before. Where is that, anyway? Is it far from here?”

“Oh, it’s pretty far,” she said. “It’s a few hours’ drive from here.”

“Oh.”

While the iron skillet heated up, she dusted the trout with flour and seasoned it with salt and pepper. Once the butter began to sizzle, Hannah placed the fish in the pan.

“I’m Hannah,” she finally disclosed. “Your big sister. Did you know you have a sister?”

Holding her flour-coated fingers well away from her dress, she looked at Tammy to see the young woman’s reaction to the news. However, it was like her sister hadn’t even heard a word she’d said. She was too focused on the food Hannah was preparing.

“Are you gonna doctor up the beans?” Tammy shyly asked.

Hannah watched as a worried frown planted itself in her sister’s brow.

“Doctor them up?” Hannah didn’t quite understand.

“With some brown sugar and a tiny dollop of yellow mustard,” Tammy suggested. “And a little molasses wouldn’t hurt.”

“I can do that,” Hannah said, wiping her fingers on a tea towel. She opened cabinet doors, searching for ingredients.

Apparently Tammy felt a little more relaxed about the food preparation, because she boldly commented, “You can’t be Hannah. My sister’s just a little girl. She’s six.”

“Well...” Hannah grew silent, paused for a second. “I’m an adult now. I’m thirty years old.”

Tammy’s expression clearly conveyed that she thought that piece of information was proof to back up her own argument, not Hannah’s.

“I have Hannah. I can show you.”

“What do you mean you have Han—”

Before she was able to complete her question, Tammy had raced off into the living room and her footsteps could be heard on the stairs.

How was she going to explain? Hannah wondered. How do you illustrate the concept of growing up to someone who had the mentality of a young child?

Going to the refrigerator, Hannah bent over and perused the contents, looking for a jar of mustard.

“Oh, oh, oh.”

The panic in Tammy’s voice as she rushed back into the kitchen had Hannah twisting around from the refrigerator. The thick black smoke billowing from the skillet on the burner made her eyes widen in alarm.

“Oh, my!” Hannah snatched up a pot holder that was hanging on a hook near the stove, grabbed the searing-hot pan and dropped it into the sink. She turned on the faucet Water hissed and bubbled loudly when it hit the hot metal, and a surge of sooty steam only added more haze to the air. The smell of burned fish made Hannah raise her hand to cover her nose, and the acrid smoke made her eyes water.

“Well, somebody has certainly ruined dinner.”

Hannah looked through the smoke to see that the irritating Adam Roth had returned.

Chapter Three

“Hi, Adam!” Tammy greeted him. Clutching her hands at waist level, she blurted, “Hannah burned the fish.”

The tragic tone of her sister’s voice made Hannah flush with guilt and embarrassment.

“I could tell from the smell.” Adam’s expression said he shared in Tammy’s sorrow. Then he tossed Hannah a tiny wicked grin. “And the smoke. Not much of a cook, are you?”

Hannah just glowered at him, bristling in silence.

Although most of the kitchen windows were open to the summer air, Adam went from one to the other, pushing the sashes up as far as they would go.

“Help me, Tammy,” he said. “We need to prop open the front and back doors, too, so this smoke will clear out of the house.”

Tammy laughed, eager to help, as she raced to the living room windows at the front of the house, her grief over the burned fish momentarily forgotten.

Feeling bad that she hadn’t paid the frying pan more attention, Hannah heaved a heavy sigh and ended up inhaling enough smoke to make her bend over with a coughing fit.

“Come on,” Adam said, taking her by the arm. “Let’s step out onto the porch.”

Once outside, Hannah grumbled, “I only burned two of the fillets. There’s plenty of fish left. It’s not like we’re going to go hungry.”

“Well, it wouldn’t matter how much you’ve got,” he commented. “If they’re not fit to eat once they’re cooked, you just might go hungry.”

She didn’t want to find the teasing glint in his gray-blue eyes sexy, but she did, as well as the appealing chuckle that rumbled from deep in his chest. Her heart raced; her palms grew clammy. What was the matter with her?

Narrowing her gaze, Hannah put up the best angry front she could. Darn him! Never in a million years would she let this irritating man know she found herself reacting to him, that she found him the least bit attractive. Lord, what was it about this man that made her body react so?

“Why didn’t Tammy fry up the fish she caught?” His tone was tinged with accusation.

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