Wonderful reviews for award-winning author Helen Brenna

“Brenna combines nonstop action and great sexual tension for a story readers won’t want to put down.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Moon That Night, nominated for a Reviewer’s Choice award for Best Harlequin Superomance of 2010

“I’ve found a new series romance writer to put on the auto-buy list.”

—All About Romance on Along Came a Husband

“One book you must have on your list…don’t miss it!”

—Romance Reviews Today on Along Came a Husband

“In this touching story about the power love has to heal all wounds, Brenna’s characters have terrifically real depth and emotional appeal.”

—RT Book Reviews on Then Comes Baby

“A talented storyteller, Brenna has a gift for writing category romance. She understands how to create intimate, heart-touching stories with the kind of vigorous writing that makes a series romance a satisfying little peek into the lives and loves of unique people and families. If you don’t know her work, Next Comes Love is a nice place to start.”

—Michelle Buonfiglio, BN.com

“Highlighting the eternal tension between safety and risk and the familiar and the unknown, this poignant, sweet, gently humorous story focuses on a pair of deeply conflicted protagonists and nicely sets the stage for the Mirabelle Island books to come.”

—Library Journal on First Come Twins

Dear Reader,

Wow. Number five in the An Island to Remember series. It’s finally Sarah’s turn!

The first time Garrett Taylor popped into my mind for book two, Next Comes Love, I had this feeling he had brothers, and by book three I knew at least one of them was going to make his way to Mirabelle. Jesse, though, was a truly larger-than-life surprise.

Sarah and Jesse. Jesse and Sarah. No matter how I look at it, these two simply belong together. I hope you enjoy the journey of them discovering what was so clear to me from page one.

Two more An Island to Remember stories are coming in August and September 2011. I promise Her Sure Thing will shake up the life of entirely-too-content Dr. Sean Griffin. And Redemption at Mirabelle has Missy Charms’s sister, Marin Camden, getting a little more than she bargained for when she comes to the island for some R & R.

Without giving too much away, Mirabelle Island itself is going to face its toughest challenge yet in the midst of these three stories, so keep reading! And check out my website at www.helenbrenna.com. I’ll be adding pages of Mirabelle Island detail, pictures, maps and a character chart.

I love hearing from readers. You can contact me at helenbrenna@comcast.net, or P.O. Box 24107, Minneapolis, MN 55424.

My best,

Helen Brenna

The Pursuit of Jesse
Helen Brenna

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Helen Brenna grew up in central Minnesota, the seventh of eight children. Although she never dreamed of writing books, she’s always been a voracious reader. So after taking a break from her accounting career to be an at-home mom, she tried her hand at writing the romances she loves to read. Since she was first published in 2007, her books have won many awards, including the Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA® Award, RT Book Reviews Reviewer’s Choice Award, the HOLT Medallion, the Book Buyers’ Best Award and the National Readers’ Choice Award.

Helen lives happily ever after with her family in Minnesota. She’d love hearing from you. Email her at helenbrenna@comcast.net or send mail to P.O. Box 24107, Minneapolis, MN 55424. Visit her website at www.helenbrenna.com or chat with Helen and other authors at Riding With The Top Down.

For Johanna Raisanen

Thanks for making that first big leap of faith!

Acknowledgments:

He doesn’t yet know this, but I have to thank Adam Gadach, once again, for inspiring me to write this story. He’s a real live hero who truly knows how to forgive.

Adam was hit by a drunk driver one night and, as a result, lost his leg.

The man who hit him was Adam Lunn, and I do need to thank him, too, for showing me how a man starts to find the courage to face his mistakes.

Believe it or not, these two men stand side by side and talk to DWI offenders about their experience, hoping to make a difference, hoping to save lives. I have to believe they’ve saved more than one.

My best to you both, Helen

“To err is human, to forgive divine.”

—Alexander Pope

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

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

“THIS WISCONSIN OR the tundra?” Jesse Taylor chuckled as he glanced through the windshield of the four-wheel-drive SUV and into a blinding swirl of white. The bus had only taken him as far as Bayfield. From there, he’d hired a taxi.

“Oh, heck, this ain’t nothing,” the driver said, his voice cutting through the twang of an old country-and-western song playing on the radio. “We’re only gettin’ six inches of snow today. I remember once we got eighteen in a coupla hours.”

Six inches or eighteen didn’t make a bit of difference to Jesse. It’d been a long time since he’d experienced a Midwestern blizzard. Frost built in the corners of the windows and wind twirled the snow, obscuring visibility and causing dangerous drifts. Black ice formed on the frozen road.

“Dang, it’s cold out.” Even for January. He flipped up the collar of what was proving to be a woefully inadequate jean jacket and hunkered down for the ride.

His skin prickled with more than goose bumps as a sense of uneasiness spread through him. Instinct screamed at him to head south and get as far away from the state of Wisconsin as his thumb would carry him. Nothing here for him except snow and cold. And the past. Reality was, though, he needed some traveling cash, and a job, he hoped, was waiting for him at the end of the line.

“Here.” The driver grabbed a knit cap from his center console and tossed it toward Jesse. “Keep your head warm, anyway.”

Jesse glanced at the hat and stiffened. In his world, at least the world he’d been living in for the past three years, ten months and sixteen days, there was no such thing as something for nothing.

Relax, man. He doesn’t want anything from you.

Carefully taking the hat, Jesse pulled it down over his frozen ears. “Thanks.”

“Thought you said you was from Chicago. Heck, you should be used to this kind of weather.”

“I’ve been…away for a few years.”

Simple. Evasive. Good job, Jess.

Suddenly, it looked to Jesse as if the road was ending at the shoreline, but the driver wasn’t slowing down. “You planning on going right across the lake? I didn’t think Lake Superior froze over completely.”

“It don’t. Chequamegon Bay does most winters, though.”

“Most winters?” The old truck bounced over an icy ridge and headed out onto the snow-covered ice. “Let’s hope this is one of them.”

“Don’t worry.” The man smiled. “I’ll get you to Mirabelle Island in one piece.”

It wasn’t long before the SUV approached a dark blur getting larger by the minute. “That the island?”

“Yessiree.”

It was bigger than Jesse had expected and more isolated. A cluster of homes and businesses occupied only one corner of the island. The rest of the land appeared undeveloped and thickly wooded with hardwoods and tall, stately pines heavily laded with snow. A winter wonderland kind of place.

“You got someone meeting you at the pier?”

“Yeah.” Jesse sighed. “My brother.”

“That’s good.”

Not necessarily. When their father died a long while back, Jesse’s oldest brother had snubbed the family patriarch role, but now that he’d gotten married and settled down, he’d become damned near insufferable.

The driver reached Mirabelle’s shore. He slowed, put the vehicle in low gear and then drove right up an embankment and into a parking lot. “There you be.”

“Thanks.” Jesse hesitated. The weather he’d find a way to tolerate, but his brother’s cold disapproval would be another thing entirely. Not to mention that this town looked about as welcoming as the frigid temperature. Despite the fact that it wasn’t even dinnertime yet, there was absolutely no sign of activity. Only the dim interior lights of a nearby restaurant, the Bayside Café, were any indication there was life on this island.

“You want to wait in my truck for a few minutes? At least until your brother shows up?”

“A little snow never hurt anyone.” He’d arrived a bit earlier than he’d expected, but he had an address. He could hike up the hill, if necessary. Even so, he couldn’t seem to make himself move.

“Well? You getting out or what?”

Jesse glanced through the falling snow. Quaint little town. Most likely nice people. A community, where everyone knew everyone else. He might’ve been better off in a city where he could be anonymous.

“Mister? You okay?”

The bottom line was he had no place else to go. “Yeah. Sorry. Thanks for the ride.” He handed the guy a twenty, one of only two in his wallet. “Keep the change.” Then he took a deep breath and opened the door.

As he stepped into several inches of light snow, wind whipped up the legs of his jeans and up the back of his jacket. He grabbed his bag and slammed the door. The truck pulled away and headed to the mainland, leaving him alone on this apparently deserted chunk of snow and ice. How his brother had ended up here in the north country was anyone’s guess, but he sure sounded as if he was here to stay.

“Well, hell,” Jesse muttered to himself. “Time to face the music.”

He’d taken no more than a few steps when the drone of a small, noisy engine sounded from a short distance away. Seconds later, a snowmobile zipped around the corner and came straight for him. The driver, dressed in an insulated one-piece suit and stocking cap, wasn’t wearing a helmet. Jesse took one look at the man and stopped in his tracks.

The machine pulled up next to him and the driver hopped off. “Hello, Jesse.” There wasn’t even a glimmer of a smile in the man’s tough eyes or in the severe set to his lips, but then he was the chief of police. Having a guy like Jesse for a brother sure as hell wasn’t a feather in his cap.

“Garrett,” Jesse said, reaching out his hand. He realized belatedly that he would’ve liked a hug, some kind of more meaningful human contact after all these years, but it didn’t look as if that was about to happen. “Good to see you.”

Garrett stood there for a moment and then he reached out and shook Jesse’s hand. “Good to see you, too, Jesse.”

A knot formed in Jesse’s throat, but he sucked the emotion back into his chest and grinned. “I hope you got a coat I can borrow, ’cause I’m freezing my ass off here.”

“Come on.” Garrett gave him a half smile. “We’ll stop at the station and find you something.”

Garrett hopped onto his snowmobile, and Jesse climbed on behind him and held on as they drove a couple blocks into town. Crossing what looked like the main avenue, given the shop fronts and ornate black lampposts. The first thing Jesse noticed were the three bars located within a two-block stretch.

Immediately, the skin on the back of his neck broke out into a cold sweat. Oh, for crying out loud. Lighten up, Jess. Just because you don’t drink anymore doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun while you’re here.

Garrett turned down a side street and stopped in front of an historic-looking white clapboard building. The police station. This place was a laugh a minute.

He followed his brother through the front doors and suffered through introductions to Renee, the receptionist, a well-preserved middle-aged woman, and Herman, a lanky old deputy, all the while swallowing the knot of apprehension growing tighter in his chest. He couldn’t believe his own brother had become a cop.

They went to the corner office, and Garrett opened up a closet. “Here.” He tossed Jesse a winter coat. “Keep it. I got a couple others.”

Jesse held out the heavy parka. There was no doubt he was going to need something warm and serviceable, but handouts didn’t sit well. “You got anything in red? Or black?” he joked. “Military green has never been my color.”

Garrett ignored Jesse’s meager attempt at humor and glanced at his watch. “Before we head up to the house to get you settled, I need to make a stop at that job I told you about.”

“Right now?”

“Yep. Sarah will be waiting for us.”

“Sarah, huh?” Jesse grinned. “Pretty? Single? Available?”

“All of the above.” Garrett frowned. “And a good friend of mine. That’s exactly why you’ll be steering clear of her and all the rest of the single women on this island. And with the influx of new residents we’ve had over the last couple of years, there are quite a few.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Look,” Garrett said. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“Trouble’s my middle name, big bro. You know that,” Jesse said, trying to make light. From the time he’d been a little boy, he’d been the comic relief. You could always count on Jesse to lighten any tense situation. Bad habit, he knew, but a tough one to break.

“I mean it, Jesse.”

“Don’t worry.” Jesse spun around, wanting out of here as quickly as possible. “Your precious island’s safe from me.”

“Jesse?”

There is no wave without wind. Jesse repeated his mantra. Don’t cause a wind, you won’t have the waves. He turned and forced out a grin despite the fact his skin felt as if it might crack.

“Don’t pull any stunts here on Mirabelle,” Garrett whispered, his tone deathly serious. “Brother or not, you screw up and I will put you back in jail.”

Jesse refused to let his smile dim. “Wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Garrett.”

CHAPTER TWO

“THIS IS IT, BRIAN.” Sarah Marshik, her cheeks sore from smiling nonstop since she’d woken up that morning, glanced through the falling snow at the old Victorian cottage nestled at the edge of Mirabelle Island’s forest.

“It’s kinda small,” Brian said, grimacing. “And old.”

“I know, honey. But it’s ours. All ours.” She looked past the peeling paint and the porch’s broken gingerbread trim and imagined the possibilities. “No more apartments. No more rent. You’ll have your own yard. A bigger bedroom. And Garrett promised it’ll be as good as new by the time he gets done with it. We’ll be able to move in before school lets out.”

And, she hoped, before this year’s wedding season kicked into high gear the first weekend in June. She climbed the snow-covered steps, and pride at her accomplishment swelled in her heart, even as tears blurred her vision. It’d taken her years of scrimping to save for a down payment on a house and even more years of working her butt off building her wedding-planning and flower-shop businesses so that her income would be steady enough to qualify for a loan, but she’d finally managed to pull together all the parts of the equation that made for a good life.

A safe community. Check. A job that paid the bills. Check. A house. Check. Finally. A little more than ten minutes ago, she’d signed the mortgage papers at Mirabelle’s tiny bank. Now this was her house.

She put the key in the lock, tapped the snow off her boots and opened the weathered oak door. Then she stepped inside and glanced around. Make that her dilapidated and vermin-infested house.

The place looked even worse than when it had first come on the market two years ago. There were water stains on the ceiling from a leaky roof. The kitchen countertop and sink were discolored. The walls were pitted with nail holes and large dents as if they’d seen one too many parties, and it looked as if some kind of wild animal had set up camp in the fireplace. She didn’t even want to look at the bathrooms or the carpets. On top of the grunge, everything appeared dated, including the countertops, the light fixtures and all the appliances.

The old couple who had owned the cottage had long since stopped spending summers on the island, and had, instead, been leasing the place. As the cottage had fallen into disrepair, the renters had stopped coming and the house had sat dormant for the past several years. No one had wanted to buy it. No one had been able to see what she could see.

Silently, she prayed that Garrett was right and the basic structure was solid and therefore worth remodeling. If he was wrong, she’d just signed her life away for nothing.

Brian followed her inside and took a step toward the kitchen.

“Ah, ah, ah,” she said, closing the door. “Stomp that snow off your boots before you start traipsing around.”

“Seriously? What difference does it make? This place is a dump.”

“Dump or not, it’s our dump.” Gingerly, she picked up an old wadded-up towel from the corner and laid it in front of the door. “Step on that.” The towel was dirty and smelled musty, but it would have to do for now.

“This place is disgusting, Mom. And it smells. You sure you want to live here?”

It was going to take some time, most of her savings and a lot of elbow grease, but this house was eventually going to look perfect, like the home of her dreams.

“Yes, I’m sure.” She reached out and ruffled his hair.

“Moooom!” He ducked away. “I’m not a baby.”

No, he was nine now. Almost a man, he’d been insisting lately. Well, he could insist all he wanted. Nothing could change the fact that he’d always be her little boy.

“I know the place needs a lot of work before we can move in,” she said. “But Garrett’s sure he can get everything done before the wedding season kicks into high gear. He’ll put in new kitchen cabinets and countertops. New bathrooms. New carpet. You can help me paint. By the time we’re finished, it’ll be beautiful.”

“If you say so.”

The sound of a snowmobile coming up the hill filled the quiet outside and Sarah pushed aside the moth-eaten curtain to see Garrett pulling into the yard. Excited to hear when he could start, she didn’t give the fact that he had a stranger with him much of a thought. She opened the front door as Garrett came up the steps. “Right on time.”

“I knew you’d be excited.” Although there was a slight smile on Garrett’s face, he looked preoccupied. He stomped the snow off his boots and stepped inside. The other man followed suit and closed the door behind him. “Sarah, this is my youngest brother, Jesse.”

As in the rolling-stone, smart-aleck, ladies’ man youngest brother? “No kidding?” she said, warily eyeing the man.

Everyone knew Garrett had three brothers, but she’d never expected any of them to come to Mirabelle, at least not during the winter months. She’d gathered from the past comments Garrett had made that his siblings weren’t much for islands, at least not the non-Caribbean variety. While many of the single women on Mirabelle had been after Garrett to talk his brothers into coming north, Sarah had never been one of them. At least not seriously.

“You didn’t say anything about him coming. Or did I miss that?” she asked.

“Kind of spur-of-the-moment,” Jesse said, holding her gaze.

Then he smiled at her, and her stomach pitched. The way his lips curved in a lopsided grin, the way his eyes twinkled, this man reminded her so much of…Bobby, it was frightening. She hadn’t thought of him in years, and she sure as hell didn’t want to think about him now. The man—that time—had been the worst mistake of her life.

“Nice to meet you, Sarah.” All at once, Jesse took off his hat, ruffled his short dark hair and reached for her hand.

Uh-oh. “Nice meeting you, too,” she somehow managed to murmur.

Garrett was the more traditionally handsome of the two brothers, but Jesse, with his rugged features, including a nose that looked to have been broken more than once, dark, scruffy stubble and a tiny silver hoop in his left earlobe, was far more fascinating. At least in Sarah’s book. If the way he’d held her hand—a little longer than technically necessary—was any indication, Garrett was right. This brother was the flirt in the family, a fact that likely made up for in spades what he might be lacking in the looks department.

Once upon a time, she would’ve been tripping all over herself to get to this man, but times had changed. She’d changed. Fun-loving rolling stones didn’t make good husband or father material. And if Sarah was attracted to him? Therein lie the first sign Jesse was no good. No woman on earth could pick a good-timing loser faster than Sarah.

She forced her gaze away from Jesse’s face and glanced toward Brian, reminding herself of her priorities. You had your fun with bad boys, and remember how that turned out? Mother first, woman second. Or woman never as had been the case living on an island the size of Mirabelle all these years, but then that had been why she’d moved here in the first place. Very little to no temptation on Mirabelle, the tiny destination wedding spot of the Upper Midwest, and that was fine by her.

“This is Brian,” she said, smiling. “My son.”

“Hey, there, Brian.” Jesse feigned a serious look. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

“School’s over for the day,” Brian said with a scowl on his face. “But I think I’d rather be there than here, anyway.”

“It might not look like much right now,” Jesse said, glancing around. “Wait a few weeks. You won’t even recognize the place.”

“I told you, honey, Garrett’s going to take care of everything.” She glanced up at Garrett and noticed his frown had deepened. “What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this.”

“Straight-out is usually best.”

“There was a young couple here on Mirabelle this past summer. They stayed in one of the honeymoon suites at the Mirabelle Island Inn and expressed a lot of interest in the furniture I’d made for Marty Rousseau. I wasn’t going to hold my breath for an order, but…” He ran his hands over his face as he paced. “They called me yesterday, Sarah. Out of the blue. They’re buying a new house and want me to make their master bedroom furniture, a dining room set and some other pieces.”

“That’s great, Garrett! Good for you.”

“They want everything ASAP.”

“So what does that mean?” As she held her breath, she had the feeling she knew exactly what he was trying to say.

“It means I have to get at the order right away, and it’s going to take several months.”

Her excitement fizzled like a candle flame doused in a bucket of water. “So you can’t help me with my house.”

“Sarah, I’m sorry, but this is the biggest order I’ve gotten since I moved up here. There’s potential for a lot more orders. It’s just what my furniture business needs to get off and running.”

“So now what?” she asked.

“I can do it,” Jesse said.

She was supposed to put her house in the hands of Garrett’s baby brother? What were the chances he’d actually follow through and get her house done on time? On top of that, she’d expected to spend a lot of time for the next several months at this house helping Garrett. Day in and day out, side by side with a confirmed ladies’ man would be Sarah’s nightmare come true.

“Anything Garrett can do, I can do better.” Jesse chuckled. “And I won’t charge you as much.” Sarah frowned.

“You know what?” One look in her eyes and Jesse turned around. “I think I’ll just go outside and let you two talk this over.” He crammed his hat back on his head and slipped through the front door.

“Can I go with Jesse, Mom?” Brian asked.

“Sure,” she said before thinking about it, but the last thing she needed was for Brian to get friendly with this guy. Who knew what kind of influence he’d be? Unfortunately, her son was already racing outside.

The front door closed and Sarah turned to Garrett.

“I know, I know,” he said, holding up his hands. “You probably feel as though I’m backing you into a corner, but the honest-to-God truth is that this is for the best. Jesse’s a better all-around carpenter than me.”

It wasn’t his carpentry skills she was worried about. “If he’s so good, why can’t he build the furniture and you do my house?”

“Because he’s never made so much as a bookshelf. He can do everything from plumbing to finishing work. Lay carpet, install windows, fix that leaky roof.” Garrett pointed to the ceiling. “But there’s a difference between all that and the detail involved in designing and building one-of-a-kind furniture. This order’s too important to leave in the hands of a novice.”

Sarah glanced out the window to find Brian throwing snowballs at the side of the storage shed and Garrett’s brother watching him, looking as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Her apprehension built. Through the years she’d been careful to ensure the male influences in Brian’s life had been good men, solid and dependable. She’d bet her bottom dollar Jesse was neither.

“If I remember right,” she said, turning back to Garrett, “this is the brother you said went through women like other men went through socks. He moved around so much you were never sure where he was from one day to the next. ‘Everybody loves Jesse, but the guy can’t hold down a job to save his soul.’ Ring a bell?”

“Yeah, I probably did say all those things.” Garrett sighed heavily. “But that was then. This is now. Sarah, give him a chance. Please. You and I have laid out every detail of this remodeling project. We’ve ordered all the supplies. All Jesse has to do is follow through.”

“That’s the problem. Will he follow through?”

“Yeah.” Garrett held her gaze. “This time I think he will.”

“You think?” She had at least one wedding scheduled for every weekend throughout the summer. Come June first, she’d be so busy, she wouldn’t have time to take a breath, let alone move into this house. “This is too important to me for you to guess, Garrett. I need you to know.”

“What I know is that if he doesn’t come through, I will. One way or another. I promise.”

If there was a man whose promise meant the world and then some, it was Garrett’s. He and his wife, Erica, were two of her best friends, and his troubled gaze spoke volumes. Sarah had the distinct feeling she was going to regret this, but if the positions were reversed, Garrett would do this for her in a heartbeat. “Take the furniture order. I’ll deal.”

He looked only slightly relieved.

That, more than anything, set her on edge. “There’s more, though, isn’t there?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Before you make up your mind, you should know…Jesse…well, he’s had some tough luck.” Then Garrett shook his head. “No, that’s not true. He brought it on himself.”

“Brought what on?”

“There’s no easy way to say this.” He held her gaze. “Jesse just got out of prison. Today.”

The words had a hard time registering. “What? Did you say prison? As in guards, bars, cells? Criminals?”

Garrett nodded. “He served an almost four-year term. Was released this morning.”

She sucked in a breath, absorbing what he’d said. “What did he do to deserve going to prison?”

Garrett took a couple steps away from her and then looked back. “I promised Jesse I’d let him decide when and how much to tell the islanders. But, Sarah, he’s not dangerous to you or Brian. I swear. On my life. On the lives of my family. I care too much for both you and Brian to put either one of you in harm’s way.”

“So you want me to welcome an ex-con into my home, into my life. Into my son’s life.” She pointed out the window. “Without the slightest indication—”

“Jesse’s done his time. He deserves a chance to get back on his feet, and I know the most important part of the process for my brother is going to be keeping him busy.”

Outside, Brian was laughing and talking with Garrett’s brother as he threw snowballs at a tree in the woods. Jesse stood there for a moment, watching Brian before picking up a handful of snow and tossing it, then he glanced up and caught her looking at him through the window. His grin brightened for an instant, and an answering wave of attraction pummeled her. As he held her gaze, he clearly sensed her apprehension and his smile slowly disappeared.

Mentally, she kicked herself. Snap out of it!

The irony of the fact that she’d even dated a couple of felons a long time ago wasn’t lost on her, but no one here on Mirabelle knew about her wild days. She’d moved to Mirabelle to get away from all that, to put the past behind her and start over, start fresh.

She turned back toward Garrett. “I don’t think—”

“You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. Please, Sarah. This is the best opportunity I’ve had yet to get my furniture business going. Give Jesse a chance. For me and Erica.”

Garrett had never asked her for anything, and he’d given so much back to this small community, to her. Could she really turn her back on him simply because she was worried that one man was all it would take to ruin the good life she’d built here on Mirabelle? “The Setterbergs need me out of my apartment by the end of May,” she said. “If this house isn’t ready, I’ll have no place else to go.”

“It’ll be ready. Even if I have to drop my furniture order and do it myself.”

Suddenly, she was sick of looking into the faces of men like Jesse and having to fight the urge to run like hell in the opposite direction. She had a good life here on Mirabelle. It was time to prove to herself once and for all that she wasn’t going to risk it all over a man, any man. “All right, Garrett. For you. I’ll give Jesse a chance.”

CHAPTER THREE

JESSE CLIMBED OFF the snowmobile and stared at the log home sitting in the middle of at least an acre-size lot bordered by massive evergreens and bare-branched hardwoods. The structure was old, but clearly solid as a rock. Whoever had taken the time to restore it had done a good job. “Did you do the work on this place yourself?” he asked Garrett.

“Naw, it was mostly finished when I bought it. Did some of the interior work, though.”

This setting was a far cry from the inner streets of Chicago where they’d grown up, but somehow this rustic lifestyle seemed to fit the new, settled Garrett.

“My woodworking shop.” He pointed to a standalone building. “I have duplicates of all my tools, so take whatever you need to work on Sarah’s house. With one condition. I want everything back when you’re finished. Okay?”

That stung. “What? You think I’m going to skip the island with your tools?” Jesse may have pulled a lot of stunts through the years, but he’d never stolen a damned thing in his life. Well, except for those couple packs of bubble gum he’d snitched from Wolter’s candy shop when he was ten.

“Come on,” Garrett said, letting the issue hang between them. “It’s freezing out here. Let’s go inside.”

Feeling more than a little out of sorts, Jesse followed his brother up the steps and onto the wide porch. Though the wind had let up a bit, the snow was still falling steadily and the sun had all but set, leaving behind frigid temperatures. The moment the front door opened, a blast of warm, garlic-and-meat-scented air hit Jesse square in the face.

Quickly, he glanced around. A mudroom combination laundry room was positioned to their left, and a large kitchen opened in front of them with a family room off to the right. Pots and pans bubbled on the stove, a fire sizzled in a stone hearth and a kid’s video game quietly played out on a wide-screen TV.

An attractive dark-haired woman came toward them from the kitchen and Garrett grinned as he shrugged out of his coat and hung it on a nearby hook. “Hey, you.” Garrett planted a kiss on his wife’s lips.

Jesse would’ve expected a quick peck on a closed mouth given the couple had been married for a while, but, no. This contact was instantly intimate. The petite woman nearly disappeared when Garrett wrapped his big arms firmly around her.

Caught off guard, Jesse found himself staring. What would it feel like to be welcomed home that sweetly? Hell, it’d been so long since he’d been kissed, he’d surely forgotten what a woman’s lips felt like. Although the exchange lasted only a second or two, it was long enough for Jesse to feel as if he were intruding.

Garrett stepped back, his arm still draped over his wife’s shoulder. “Jesse, this is Erica.”

Jesse nodded and reached out to shake her hand. “Nice to finally meet you.” Per Jesse’s orders his family and friends had not been allowed to visit him while he’d been behind bars, and suddenly, he felt awkward and shy, meeting for the first time this woman who’d become so important to his brother in such a short amount of time.

Chuckling, she glanced at his hand. “That’s a joke, right? We’re family.” Then she threw her arms around him and hugged him. “I’m glad you’re finally…here.”

Jesse made an attempt at hugging her back, but it didn’t feel right. After so many years of holding the world at arm’s length, he wasn’t sure he remembered everyday niceties.

“Daddy, Daddy!” A toddler sat in a high chair near the kitchen’s center island, his arms impatiently outstretched toward Garrett.

“And this is David.” Garrett kissed the cheesy-sauced cheek of his young son and scooped him out of the high chair. Cute kid. Reminded Jesse of baby pictures of Garrett. His brother sure did seem comfortable around all this domesticity.

“Zach?” Erica called. “Come and meet your uncle, kiddo.”

A young boy popped up from the family-room floor and came toward them, his hands hanging awkwardly at his sides. “Hey.”

“Hey, Zach.” Jesse reached out and shook the boy’s hand.

From what Garrett had written in his infrequent emails to Jesse, Garrett and Erica had adopted her nephew after Erica’s sister had been murdered by her husband, Zach’s dad. Damn. And Jesse thought he’d had a tough childhood. The kid’s real name was Jason, but he went by Zach or Zachary, the name he’d chosen when he and Erica had first come to Mirabelle to hide from her abusive brother-in-law. Sounded to Jesse like a way to evade the past and all its pain, but who was Jesse to judge? The kid looked as if he was doing okay.

“You look like you’re about Brian’s age, huh?” Jesse said. “Sarah’s son. You two friends?”

“Yeah.” Zach’s eyes lit up. “Best friends.”

“That’s cool. He seems like a nice kid.” For a moment, Jesse stood there, unsure of what to do next.

“Well, settle in quick,” Erica said, heading back to the stove. “Dinner’s ready in a few minutes. Hope you like pork chops. Mashed potatoes and gravy.”

Jesse’s mouth watered at the thought of his first home-cooked meal in almost four years.

“Come on, Jess.” Garrett started toward the back of the house. “I’ll show you to your room before we eat.”

Jesse picked up his bag and followed Garrett down a hallway off the kitchen. “Erica and I are upstairs with the kids,” he said. “You’re in the spare room down here. We’d been using it for storage, so it’s nothing special.”

Jesse walked through the doorway and flicked on the light. Unlike the rest of the house, this room was sparse and plain. There was a bed, dresser and bedside table. The closet was still full of boxes, camping gear and luggage.

“I know it’s basic, but—”

“It’s clean,” Jesse said. “It has a bed.” He threw his bag onto the mattress. For years, he’d dreamed of this moment, he’d dreamed of being free, but now that he was out it all seemed terribly wrong. He didn’t belong here. This was all too perfect. Too nice. Too good for the likes of him.

“And there aren’t any prison bars,” Garrett said softly.

“Nope.” Jesse glanced out the window into the dusky early evening, saw the snow falling more gently now and felt sweat break out on his brow. Most of the men he’d gotten to know in prison would’ve been leaping for joy right about now. An open window. Open door. A couple of open bars down on Main Street. And from what Garrett had said a few ready-and-willing single women.

Women like Sarah with her long, straight black hair, piercing blue eyes, made almost fierce with those thick arching eyebrows and dark lashes. And those lips with their dramatic fullness. It’d been almost four years since he’d touched a woman, four long years since he’d been touched with anything even remotely resembling tenderness.

Abruptly, the look on Sarah’s face as she stared at him through her window just a short while ago flashed through his memory. He glanced back at his brother. “You told her about me, didn’t you?”

Garrett held his gaze. “You mean Sarah?”

Jesse nodded.

“If you’re going to be working in her home, she deserved to know.”

“Forewarned is forearmed. That’s fair.” Jesse was going to have to live with being a felon from here on out, so he might as well get used to it. “What exactly did you tell her?”

“What we agreed on. Only that you’d gotten out of prison.”

“She was okay with that?”

“Not entirely, but Sarah’s one of our best friends. She trusts me.” He sighed. “Erica’s the only one who knows the whole truth. I haven’t told anyone else on this island anything about you. Now that Sarah knows you came straight from prison, that’s bound to get out. It’s up to you how much more you want to tell anyone else.”

Jesse looked away for a moment. “What about Zach?”

“He doesn’t even know the prison part. Kids ask a lot of questions, Jess. I thought it best you told him when you were ready, but I wouldn’t wait too long. He’s bound to hear rumors, and it’s probably better if he hears the truth from you.”

“Look, if me being here is going to cause you too much trouble, I’ll go someplace else.” Already his feet were itching to hit the road. All he needed was an excuse. On second thought, maybe what he wanted was an excuse.

“You don’t have any place else to go and you know it.”

“I can find a job someplace else.” Someplace where no one knew him. Where no one knew what he’d done.

“Don’t you dare start thinking about cutting and running,” Garrett said. “I stuck my neck out for you. Promised Sarah you’d finish her house.”

Jesse hadn’t made any promises, so he sure as hell couldn’t break any. All he wanted—all he needed—was some traveling cash. Just enough to get him a long, long way from Wisconsin. Hell, before he’d gone to prison the longest he’d ever stayed in the same town had been three months. He gave Mirabelle two months, tops. As soon as spring hit he was history.

“Jesse, I mean it. She needs that house finished before the end of May.”

“Don’t worry about it, bro.”

Garrett studied him for a moment. “I’m not going to lie to you. Mirabelle’s a small island. This whole place is going to be buzzing with the news about you coming. Why you’re here. Where you came from. This place is just like any other. Some will cut you some slack. Some will hate you on sight. But if there’s ever a place that’ll give you a chance to start over, start fresh, Mirabelle is it.”

“Dinner’s ready,” Erica called from the kitchen.

His chest tightened. The last thing in the world Jesse could stand in that moment was sitting around a cozy table with Garrett in his perfect house with his perfect family. Maybe starting over, starting fresh wasn’t at all what Jesse deserved. Besides, four years of sucking it up while guards told him what to do and when was enough.

“You know what?” Jesse said, smiling. “I think I might head downtown.” Just because he could. “I’m feeling a little antsy. Figure I’ll get the lay of the land. Check out Main Street.”

Refusing to look at Garrett’s face, knowing all he’d find in the depths of his brother’s eyes was disappointment, Jesse put his head down and walked toward the front door. “I won’t be too late. Don’t bother waiting up for me.”

He tugged on the coat Garrett had lent him, walked through the kitchen, keeping his gaze averted from Erica and the kids, and slipped out the front door. He was halfway down the hill before he felt as if his chest wasn’t going to cave in on him. Breathe, Jesse. Breathe.

The rush of cold air recharged his senses and he went on his way. Having absolutely no idea where he was going, Jesse let his feet take him wherever they wanted to go. Before he knew it, he’d passed the pier, hit Main and headed down the middle of the deserted, snow-smattered cobblestone street.

He walked a few blocks, passing stately black lampposts and the picturesque storefronts of Main Street Mirabelle businesses, a few even trimmed with understated but colorful winter lights. Everything was neat and tidy.

Hell, even the snow seemed to understand it had better behave on Mirabelle. Every sidewalk had been shoveled clean, and just enough of the picturesque white stuff had accumulated on windowsills, signs and bare tree branches to give all of Main Street the appearance of a holiday greeting card. This place really had to be something in the summer. Too bad he wouldn’t be around to see it.

He glanced up and saw Duffy’s Pub scrolled in large brass letters across the front of a brick building. That was Erica and Garrett’s place now that they’d bought it from the previous owners. Not what Jesse wanted tonight. What he needed was the peace of at least one night of anonymity.

Pushing himself onward, he passed a bright red candy store, a gift shop that looked as fanciful as its name Whimsy implied and a flower shop. Weddings and Flowers by Sarah. Garrett had explained that Sarah needed to get into her house before her wedding season started. This had to be her store.

With a display of the trappings of a wedding—photo albums, a towering cake, sample invitations, floral bouquets, even a pair of lacy bridal gloves and glittering sandals—it was clear Sarah had an eye for pretty innocent things. She’d taken one look at him and had known he didn’t fit in her world. She’d been right.

He was about to call it a night and head back to Garrett’s when he glanced down a side street and noticed light emanating through frost-covered windows a couple blocks down. There just might be a bar or restaurant off the beaten path that better suited him and his mood.

Making his way down the sidewalk, he read the sign out front swinging in the bitter wind. The Rusty Nail Tavern. Either the place had fallen on hard times, or the owner preferred a low-key, somewhat tacky appearance. In any case, Jesse had something in common after all with at least one establishment on this island fantasyland.

He opened the door and hesitated. Immediately, his senses were assaulted by the sounds of rock music, laughter and conversation, the slight scent of stale beer and even more stale cigarette smoke. He hadn’t been in a bar, let alone around people drinking, since…

Go back to Garrett’s, idiot. You don’t need to do this. Things can be different. Better.

Yeah? How? This is what you do. This is what you always do. I’m not going to drink, anyway. Even if I did there are no cars on this island, so what could possibly be the harm?

He plastered a smile on his face, stepped inside and headed right for the bar. The first thing he noticed was a cute blonde sitting a few stools away and nursing a tall pink concoction. She honed in on him like a hunter with a twelve-point buck in his sights.

“What can I get for you?” the bartender asked.

Even on a cold evening like this a beer sounded damned good. Then again, screwing things up the first night in Dodge probably wasn’t a good idea. There’d be plenty of time for that later. “Cola, please.”

“You visiting Mirabelle?” he asked, filling a glass with ice.

“Here for a couple months. Some construction work.”

“Tom Bent,” he said, setting the soda in front of Jesse.

“Pleased to meet you. Jesse.” Just Jesse tonight. Even whispering the name of Taylor was bound to put a damper on the evening.

“Well, don’t be a stranger.” The owner wandered off.

Predictably, the blonde slid off her bar stool and walked toward him. Garrett be damned, right along with his order for Jesse to steer clear of the single women on this island. As long as Jesse was stuck here on Mirabelle, he might as well have some fun. She wasn’t really his type, but there was no wedding ring in sight and she’d certainly help in passing the time.

“Well, hello, stranger,” she said. “I may have just moved to Mirabelle last spring, but I’m sure I’ve never seen hide nor hair of you on this island before.”

“Hello, yourself. I’m Jesse.”

“Sherri Phillips.”

“Did you say Sugar? Sugar Phillips? ’Cause you sure look sweet.”

“Sherri, silly.” She laughed and moved a little closer. “I own a hair salon a couple doors down, and I can’t wait to get my hands on your…head.”

“You can get your hands on any part of me anytime you want,” he said softly.

“That’s what I like to hear.” She slid her hands along his arms. “Just so you know, though, strings don’t stay on this little package. Understand?”

“Perfectly.”

This was more like it. Finally, after four long years, Jesse was back in his comfort zone.

HER ELBOWS RESTING on the counter and her head in her hands, Sarah sat in her tiny apartment kitchen late that night with her laptop in front of her. She’d waited until Brian was sound asleep before logging on to the internet, and although she’d been at it for almost an hour searching for information, she’d had absolutely no luck.

Naturally, she’d located several people with the name Jesse Taylor, including a teacher at a martial-arts studio, a couple of teenagers with social-networking pages, a doctor at a medical clinic in Cincinnati and the president of a seafood company in Alabama. None of the individuals listed were of the same approximate age as Garrett’s brother, and she could find no record of a Jesse Taylor ever having lived in the Chicago area. It was as if Garrett’s brother didn’t exist.

On top of that, she couldn’t find a single mention of a legal issue or newspaper report involving a Jesse Taylor. Four years, though, was a fairly long prison term. Whatever he’d done, it’d been serious.

She searched for the types of crimes leading to four-year terms and discovered any number of infractions he could’ve committed. He could’ve been convicted of a robbery or rape. Maybe he’d been dealing cocaine, or gotten busted for operating a meth lab. It was possible he’d embezzled tens of thousands of dollars from little old ladies. Some of the crimes were violent, others were not.

She conjured the image of Jesse’s face in her mind. That smile. Those eyes. His hand had felt so warm, his touch so engaging. It was difficult to imagine that someone as fun-loving as he appeared could’ve done anything to deserve prison time, let alone something violent. Not knowing what crime Jesse Taylor had committed worried her. Finding herself even remotely attracted to him in spite of it worried her much, much more.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE SOUND of heavy rock music blaring from a radio in the kitchen, Jesse ignored the two boys standing in the corner of one of the bedrooms in Sarah’s house watching him work. Every day since he’d arrived on Mirabelle more than a week ago, they’d come here wanting to help and every day Jesse had done his best to ignore them. Today, although Zach was clearly interested in the ins and outs of ripping out old carpet, he rifled through the tools in the toolbox lying on the floor. Brian, on the other hand, watched Jesse’s every move.

“Don’t you boys have anything better to do than stand there staring at me day in and day out?” The presence of an audience was a bit disconcerting as far as Jesse was concerned, but at least they were kids. He didn’t feel the need to make nice with a couple of nine-year-olds.

Zach glanced hopefully at Brian. “We could go up to the community center and shoot some hoops.”

This small island had a community center? Jesse might have to check that out.

“I’m sick of basketball,” Brian muttered.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“I’m so ready for baseball to start I can taste the hot dogs,” Brian said. “You ever play any ball, Jesse?”

Hell, yes. There was a time the Taylor boys had dominated the game of baseball in their Chicago neighborhood. With Garrett pitching, Chris on first, Drew catching and Jesse at shortstop, it got to be no one within a couple-mile radius would play ball with the Taylors unless they split two and two between teams.

He almost smiled as the memories flooded his senses. The hot sun on the back of his neck. The dusty, dirt fields. The smell and feel of an oiled leather glove. Back then the worst things he’d had to worry about were skinned knees and how bad of a mood their dad would be in when he got home from work.

“Yeah, I played baseball when I was a kid,” Jesse blurted out before remembering he shouldn’t be engaging these boys. The last thing he needed was for the two of them to think he wanted them hanging around here.

“Zach pitches and I play shortstop,” Brian said. “What position did you play?”

“You boys need to move.” Jesse yanked up the last corner of the carpet and started rolling it. “You’re in the way. You don’t want to play b-ball, fine. Figure something else out. Anything not here is better than nothing.”

“We wouldn’t be doing nothing if you let us help,” Brian said, raising his eyebrows.

“And what if you get hurt? Or screw something up?”

Zach’s shoulders slumped as if Jesse had hit a nerve, and a pang of guilt niggled at his conscience. That kid had had a tough enough start to life. Jesse sure didn’t need to make things worse.

“We’re not stupid,” Brian said, undaunted. “We know how to do things.”

“Yeah,” Zach added. “Even Garrett lets us help with stuff sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not Garrett.” Jesse crossed his arms. “So hit the roa—”

“You lift weights, don’t you?” Brian asked, his attention instantly redirected to the bulk of Jesse’s chest.

Jesse kept his mouth shut. The answer to that question would go over like a lead balloon. Other than work out what the hell else was there to do in prison? Except for read. In fact, he’d read so much he’d managed to get a two-year community-college degree through online courses. At least one good thing had come from his incarceration.

He considered telling the boys about his stint in prison. Better they get the truth from him rather than rumors and lies from someone else, as Garrett had said. What explanation could he give that wouldn’t make the boys think less of him? The fact that he cared the slightest bit about what they thought of him was an entirely different matter.

“We have free weights at our house,” Zach added. “But Garrett won’t let me lift the heavy stuff yet. Says my bones aren’t ready.”

As far as Jesse was concerned, weight rooms were things from his past. He’d quite happily get his workouts through physical labor from here on out. Wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of a gloved hand, he rolled up the rest of the dirty green shag and hoisted it up and over his left shoulder. His biceps screamed, his quads burned, he was dirty as a bum and he’d never felt better. He was a free man with a job and a place to stay. Life was about as good as it was going to get. At least until he got off this frozen rock of an island and moved as far south as he could.

Moving south. That thought more than anything suddenly improved his mood. A nice balmy breeze, sand between his toes. Girls in bikinis, golden skin slathered in oil. Mmm, mmm, mmm. How long had it been since he’d kissed a woman? Smelled a woman’s hair? Felt soft, warm feminine skin under his fingertips? And he wasn’t talking about anything like what had happened last week in the bathroom of the Rusty Nail between him and Sherri. That had amounted to nothing more than soothing a physical need. No, what he had in mind was something softer, more tender. He flashed on the way Sarah’s hand had felt in his, and the heavy carpet wobbled, nearly toppling him over.

Steady, man. Rebalancing the roll over his left shoulder, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom and down the hall.

“I’ll get the front door!” Brian said, running down the hall.

The kid seemed so hungry for male attention, but for the first time since they’d shown up almost an hour ago, Jesse was glad they were around. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder about the kid’s father. Garrett had said Sarah was single, but did her ex live on the island? If not, where was he?

Jesse carefully angled the length of carpet through the front door and across the porch before flipping the roll into the Dumpster Garrett had delivered Jesse’s first morning on the island. When he turned, he noticed Brian’s mom, her shoulders squared and her head held high, walking across the snow-covered yard.

Poised. That was the first word that came into his mind the moment he saw Sarah. Hot on its tail were three more. Curvy, confident and sexy in a very serious way. Okay, a few more than three. A blast of cold winter air hit him in the face, cooling his skin, but it wasn’t enough to cool the thoughts running through his head.

No woman should look that good in a turtleneck, serviceable down jacket and, of all things, mukluks. With her long black hair falling in loose curls past her shoulders, her lips painted a dusky red and her dark eyebrows arched inquisitively, she was the best thing he’d seen in a damned long time. Except that she wasn’t his type. Not by a long shot.

From the classy dress pants to the perfect makeup, Sarah had good girl written all over her. Sherri Phillips, on the other hand, while not perfect, was more his style. Hearty, gutsy laugh. Easy way. Sweet. Fun. Uncomplicated. What more could a man want?

He took a deep breath and put on his game face. That’s when he noticed Sarah was carrying something bulky in her arms. “Afternoon, Sarah. Need some help with whatever you got there?”

“Hello, and no, thank you.” Despite her half smile, she didn’t look very pleased.

Most people probably figured her for the calm, serene sort, but the intensity of her pale blue eyes blew that image to hell and back as far as Jesse was concerned.

She came up the porch steps and, virtually ignoring Jesse, zeroed in on her son. “Brian, have you been coming here every day after school?”

The kid looked at Jesse, quickly calculated whether or not Jesse would back up a lie and just as quickly came to the conclusion he was on his own. Stubbornly, he straightened his shoulders. “Yeah. So?”

“We talked about this.” She stomped her boots, dislodging the snow, and then stepped inside the house, carefully unrolling an indoor-outdoor-type carpet runner in the foyer area as she went. “You’re supposed to come home after school and get your homework done.”

“I can do it after supper.”

“You’re supposed to come home to check in with me, then do homework and then play, right?”

Brian crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not a baby, Mom. I should be able to decide when I want to do my homework.”

“That’s not our deal,” she said. “Go on home now.”

“But—”

“No buts. It’s almost time for dinner. We’ll talk about this later.”

As Sarah talked with her son it was impossible to not study her. Manicured hands with deep red nail polish. Makeup so perfect he wondered if she used a magnifying glass in the application process. Not a hair out of place in those relaxed curls hanging past her shoulders. What struck him the most was the fact that she was doing her damnedest to send Jesse the message that she wasn’t interested in him as a man.

“Can Zach eat over?” Brian asked.

“Sure, but he needs to call home and make sure it’s all right with either Garrett or Erica.” She put her hands on Brian’s shoulders and pointed him toward the door. “Now go.”

Poised and classy. She probably couldn’t pound in a nail to save her soul. Not your type. Those hands had probably never seen the likes of dirt let alone a dish, so why was it he wouldn’t have minded seeing her with a hammer in her hand? A tool belt hanging around that slim waist. And nothing else. Naked as the day she was born.

Mmm, mmm, mmm. Wouldn’t that be a sight for sore eyes?

“Bye, Jesse!”

The sound of his name snapped his thoughts back to the present. “Huh? Oh. Bye, boys.”

Zach and Brian both shrugged on their coats and ran out the door, calling in unison over their shoulders, “See you tomorrow.”

“No, you won’t. Homework, remember?” She turned toward him. “I hope they haven’t been getting in your way.”

“Naw.” He shook his head. “They’re nice kids.”

“Yes, they are. Mirabelle’s a nice quiet island. A lot of good people here.”

He didn’t miss the edge in her voice, but if there was one thing he’d learned in the past four years it was to not go looking for a fight. If he could avoid it, anyway.

“I’ll make sure they don’t come up here anymore,” she said. “So they won’t get in your way.”

Fine by him.

She glanced from his shirt to his hair. “Looks like you’ve been busy today.”

He brushed self-consciously at the layer of dirt and dust covering his long-sleeved black T-shirt. “Yeah, well, best to have everything out of here before all the supplies you and Garrett ordered are delivered. So I’ve basically been gutting the place.”

“Good idea.” She slipped off her boots, walked into the kitchen and turned off the radio.

“Sorry,” he said. “It’s been pretty quiet around here. I found that in the basement. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not a problem.” Slowly, she walked through the house, glancing around, seeming to take note of his progress.

He struggled for something to say. Put him in a bar with someone like Sherri and he could talk up a blue streak, but this woman made him uneasy. He might be drawn to her, but he was uneasy all the same.

“So…Garrett said you needed to be all moved in here by the end of May. Before your busy season starts,” he said, hoping to start the ball rolling. “Wedding planner, huh?”

She nodded. “I do a fair amount of business through my flower shop, as well.”

While it was crystal-clear she wasn’t interested in casual conversation, she wasn’t as immune to him as a man as she wanted him to think. Her gaze would drop to his lips or linger on his arms and chest. He ran his hand along the back of his neck, feeling more edgy with every passing moment. Best to follow her lead and stick to business.

“Things don’t seem to be moving very quickly,” she said. “I was hoping the carpet would be in by now.”

If he’d had feathers, they’d have been ruffled, especially after the week he’d had. Starting work on Sarah’s house well before sunrise and working until past dinnertime, he’d put in close to sixty hours. But then that had been entirely his choice.

After the first morning of waking up in Garrett’s house to the sounds of everyone else up and about, he’d sworn he’d never do that again. Just listening to the warm coziness of the Taylor family routine through his closed bedroom door—the smell of fresh coffee, the sounds of happy, rested kids, cereal bowls clinking and cartoons on TV—had been enough to make his skin crawl.

From then on he’d gotten up and headed off to work before anyone else had even stirred. To make sure he’d avoid Garrett’s family as much as possible, he’d been bringing a bag lunch and eating by himself at Sarah’s house. Then it was off to one of the bars downtown for a bite to eat for supper. By the time he’d been getting home, the Taylor house had settled in for the night and he’d been able to sneak back to the guest bedroom without disturbing Garrett, Erica or their kids.

Even with all those hours, Sarah’s house was a big job for one man. “Well, for one thing,” he said, trying not to sound defensive, “new carpet will likely be the last thing you’ll want to do in the house. Wouldn’t want it getting dirty, would you?”

“Good point.”

“The first thing that had to be done was to fix your leaky roof, remember?”

“Oh, right.”

“It was quite a job.” Icy wind whipping up his back, hands freezing even in the thick leather gloves Garrett had lent him, Jesse had been on a ladder shoveling snow off a large chunk of the roof that’d apparently been damaged by high winds last fall. The entire roof would need to be replaced come spring, but for the time being he’d had to patch things up to protect the interior.

There was no point in elaborating with the fact that he’d twice nearly slipped off the icy rungs of the ladder, not to mention the roof itself. Or that he’d capped her chimney and patched up a hole in one of her basement windows, ensuring there’d be no more critters nesting in her house. She would’ve had to be here to appreciate the fact that the time he’d spent outside had been miserable. “That alone took me an entire day.”

“I suppose.”

After that, he’d cleaned out all the junk the previous owner had left in the basement, taking advantage of the Dumpster while it was available. Then he’d taken out the old toilet, sink and countertop in the main bathroom. Today, he’d pulled up all the ratty carpet.

“So what’s next on your agenda?”

“Strip all the linoleum from the floors in the bathrooms and kitchen. By tomorrow the house should be ready for new subflooring.”

“New sub—” She stopped. “Can’t you save time and money by putting new flooring over the old?”

“Sure. I could do that.” He bit back the smart-ass comment on the tip of his tongue. Was this the way it was going to be for the duration of this job? Him having to justify his every move? “But then you’ll be stuck with every single creak and groan the old place has developed through the years.” To prove his point, he crossed the master bedroom floor, setting off a round of squeaks that would’ve made anyone cringe.

“And this new…subfloor will get rid of all that?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“But I don’t remember that being on Garrett’s plan.”

Could he really blame her for trusting Garrett more than him? “Well, it should’ve been. I’m guessing Garrett would’ve realized you needed new subfloors as soon as he got going on things in here.”

“That may very well be.” She turned away, put her head down and crossed her arms. When she spun back around her blue eyes had turned stormy. “But from now on I’d appreciate it if you’d stick to the way Garrett had things laid out, okay? If you think you need to deviate from his plan, please run it by me first.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Uneasiness turned to outright wariness. Apparently, this fight was coming whether he wanted it or not. Might as well get it over with sooner rather than later, so they could move on to more important things, like this attraction he could feel burning up the air between them. “But then this doesn’t have anything to do with my construction abilities, does it, Sarah? You got something to say to me, why don’t you get it off your chest?”

“Another good idea.” She held his gaze. “Garrett said you just got out of prison.”

“That’s right.” Straightening his shoulders, he prepared himself for the question he knew would follow.

“I want to know why you were there,” she said. “I want to know what you did to deserve prison time.”

He turned away and ran a hand over his face. He’d hoped he’d have more time to settle in here on Mirabelle before being confronted. Suddenly, his palms turned sweaty. His heart raced. He opened his mouth to explain and the words simply were not there. How could he explain that he’d made the worst decision of his life? One minute life was dandy. Then in the blink of an eye he’d almost killed another human being.

It wasn’t happening. Not today. Not with Miss High and Mighty. “Sorry, boss.” Grinning, he turned toward her. “I’m not in the sharing mood today.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“Well, that’s all I got. For the moment. See, I’m not feeling a connection yet between you and me. You know? As a matter of fact, I’m feeling kind of vulnerable.” He took a step toward her. “You want me to bare my soul, maybe you should go first. Like…I don’t know…you want to tell me about Brian’s dad?”

“Brian’s dad is none of your business.”

“See? There you go. Looks like neither one of us is in a sharing mood.”

“So that’s the way it’s going to be.” She frowned. “Then let’s get something straight between us right off the bat.”

Jesse’s spine stiffened, but he managed to plaster a grin on his face. Here it comes.

“I don’t have the slightest interest in getting to know you.” She cocked her head at him. “I’ve hired you as a favor to Garrett. That’s all there is to it. Get my house done and move on.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” He mock saluted her.

“For that matter. Don’t move on. Move off the island. For good.”

Now he was pissed. “Trust me. The minute your house is finished, I’ll be gone. I have no intention of staying on this boring, frozen hunk of rock any longer than necessary.”

“Good.” She stalked outside, shutting the front door loudly behind her.

That’s when the worst of it hit him. This was only the beginning. She was no doubt going to be on his case until this job was done. So why was it he still wanted Sarah, not Sherri or any other woman like her, in bed, under him, and calling out his name?

CHAPTER FIVE

“GOLD CALLA LILIES,” Sarah said. Her flower-shop phone on speaker, she talked to Megan, one of the more psychotic bride-to-be clients with whom she’d ever had the pleasure of working. This wedding would be the first of the season, and Sarah couldn’t wait until this one was over. “They’ll look amazing.”

“But I want white daisies,” Megan said decisively.

Normally, what the bride wanted, the bride got. Unless what she wanted might end up reflecting badly on Sarah. In this business, reputation was key, and she did her best to make sure every wedding was perfect.

“I know you want daisies, Megan, but remember your dress is classic in design. You wanted a very formal wedding.” As she talked, Sarah prepped a mixed vase of stargazer lilies, irises and Bells of Ireland—one of her favorites—for the Mirabelle Island Inn.

Although winter was the slow season on Mirabelle, the island enjoyed a steady stream of snowmobilers, cross-country skiers and snowshoers given the miles of scenic, groomed trails that crisscrossed the many acres of state park land covering more than half of the island. That meant Sarah’s shop did a small floral business over the winter providing the hotels, bed-and-breakfasts and a few other businesses on the island with freshly cut arrangements. Most of her time over the winter, though, was spent planning weddings for the upcoming summer season.

Sarah adjusted an iris stem. “White daisies may detract from the dramatic, stylish impact you’ve said you wanted.” Insisted was more like it. Over and over again. “Instead, I’d add a few sprigs of amaryllis,” she went on. “A shock of green.”

“That sounds terrible.” Megan’s voice was turning pitchy, a sure sign she was close to drawing a line in the sand.

“Remember the two-toned Leonidas roses? You fell in love with them at first sight. I’m not sure they’ll go well with daisies.”

“Then maybe the roses weren’t the best choice.”

Oh, no. If Sarah had anything to say about it, the woman was not changing her mind on the focal flower in her cluster bouquet for the fifth time.

“I still think the roses were the right decision,” Sarah said, easily keeping her voice steady and calm. “They match your color scheme and the style of your wedding, but before you decide, let me email you some pictures. I think you’ll absolutely love what you see.” She removed the pollen stamens from the open lilies with a tissue, ensuring the pollen wouldn’t drop and stain anything and everything in its path.

She’d been working on the flowers much longer than she should have, but that was par for the course. Weddings and Flowers by Sarah hadn’t gotten one of the best reputations in the Upper Midwest for no good reason. Nothing—fresh or silk arrangements, potted plants or the like—left her hands until everything was just right.

The flower shop’s front door opened, letting in a burst of cold air, and Sarah glanced up. Her best friend, Missy Charms Abel, who owned the gift shop next door, had, thankfully, stopped by to break up the monotony of her day. Smiling, Sarah put her index finger to her lips and then pointed to the phone.

“Lunch?” Missy silently mouthed as she held out two takeout bags.

“Yes!” Sarah mouthed back, nodding vigorously, and then spoke into the speakerphone. “So I’ll send you the photos of the design I have in mind?”

“I insist on something unique, Sarah.” Megan’s voice echoed over the speakerphone and through the small flower shop like nails down a chalkboard. “Absolutely unique.”

Missy rolled her eyes as she slipped off her boots and walked sock-footed across the tiled floor.

“I promise I’ve never done this arrangement before,” Sarah said to Megan as she smiled at Missy. “I’ll email you those pictures as soon as we get off the phone. Let me know what you decide. No rush. Take your time.” Sarah disconnected the call before Megan could find something else to obsess over and glanced up at Missy.

Her friend shook her head. “She sounds like a winner.”

“Guess how old she is?”

“To be that particular? Forty.”

“Eighteen.”

“You’re kidding. What’s her story?”

“High-school sweethearts. He’s in the military. She’s just graduating from high school this spring. Around New Year’s, they found out Brandon was scheduled to ship off to Afghanistan on July first. That’s when they got engaged.”

“So why wait? Why not just run out and get married?”

“She insisted on a Mirabelle wedding. In spring. Period. She wants the perfect wedding,” Sarah added. “And Daddy’s made it clear that the sky’s the limit for his only child.”

“I don’t know how you deal with all those crazy brides.”

“Very carefully.” Sarah laughed, prepping an email to Megan. “Honestly, though, I don’t mind.” Her years of experience with stressed-out brides-to-be and their stressed-out mothers had taught her to take their wacked-out moods in stride.

“Better you than me.” Missy set the bags on the counter.

Sarah attached a photo of the arrangement she had in mind for Megan and sent the email. “There you go, Megan,” she said, breathing a sigh of relief.

Only a second later, her computer pinged with received mail.

“Is that her replying back that quickly?” Missy asked, looking surprised.

“Yep. She thinks she likes this one. But she wants to make sure the bridesmaids’ bouquets are in sync with hers.”

“I swear,” Missy said, shaking her head. “Your brides get more obsessive every year.”

“Don’t tell anyone I said this, or I could be out of a job. But sometimes I think couples these days are entirely missing the point of the day.”

“So what’s your idea of the perfect wedding? What’s your day going to be like?”

A woman didn’t dream of her wedding day if she never expected to get married. Besides, Sarah had once upon a time planned the perfect wedding. Pulling out all the stops never ensured a blissful union. “Who says I’m ever getting married?”

“Oh, come on.”

“Seriously. I’ve got Brian. Great friends. A successful business. I love Mirabelle Island. Soon, I’ll have a house. What more could a woman want?”

“A man she loves to share it all with?”

“Not gonna happen, but I’m so glad you stopped by,” she said, abruptly changing the subject. People who were happy in their marriages always wanted everyone else to get married. “I really needed this break. What wonderful thing did you bring me to eat?”

Missy looked reluctant to let the topic of a possible Sarah-wedding go, but she did. “I’ve been dying for Dee Dee’s cranberry almond salad with tofu crumbles. So I brought you her Caribbean chicken.”

Missy was the island’s only resident vegetarian, and she’d started off a bit of a health kick for Sarah. “Yum,” Sarah murmured. “Sandwich or salad?”

“Salad, of course.”

“That’s going to hit the spot.” The mango, black beans and jicama mixture over a bed of mixed greens sounded wonderful. “I just need to finish this arrangement before I eat, but you go ahead.”

Missy took off her coat, unwrapped the colorful scarf around her neck and hung them both over the back of her chair. “You coming to yoga tonight?”

Missy taught twice-a-week classes up at the community center. Sarah tried to make it as often as she could, but she never seemed to have enough time in the week for consistent workouts.

“I think I can come after I get Brian to basketball practice. You might have to start without me.”

“We can wait. I don’t think anyone will mind. Oh, that reminds me. Did you hear the latest?” Her voice took on a conspiratorial tone. “Sherri cut my hair this morning and she said Garrett Taylor’s brother moved to the island. She was in the Rusty Nail a couple nights ago and out of the blue this guy she’d never seen came walking in from a virtual blizzard. She said they talked and danced…”

Just talked and danced? That’d be the day.

“…said something about a quick trip to the bathroom…”

There you have it.

“…and all she knew was his first name. She didn’t find out he was Garrett’s brother until the next day when Crystal Stotz came in for a color. His name’s Jesse. The baby in the family, and Sherri says he’s as different from Garrett as curly from straight.”

She had that right.

“She said he’s going to be here for a while.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Missy’s eyes widened. “You knew about this and you didn’t tell me?”

“There’s nothing to tell. Garrett can’t do the work on my house, so Jesse’s taking care of it.”

“You don’t sound happy about the situation.”

Sarah shrugged.

“Has he started working on your house yet?”

“Apparently.”

“Is he not doing a good job?”

“I’ve gone up there a couple times.” After their run-in the other day, she’d done her best to go to the house only when she knew he was gone. She wasn’t sure she could handle again the way he looked at her, as if he knew his touch would very likely set her skin on fire. The way he called her boss, as if she was no such thing, as if with a flick of a wrist he could get her to do his bidding. “The job seems to be getting done in a…competent manner.”

The fact was she’d been surprised by how good a job he was doing, and had been hard-pressed to come up with improvements. Still, she’d wanted him to know she was keeping a close eye on him, so she’d—basically—manufactured things for him to do in the notes she’d left for him.

“Buuuuut?” Missy said, pressing for more.

“I just…I don’t like him,” she said decisively.

Missy raised her eyebrows.

Sarah held stubbornly silent. Although they’d moved to Mirabelle within a few months of each other and had been best friends since, there were things about Sarah’s past she hadn’t shared with Missy. Sarah had wanted to start fresh here on Mirabelle. As time had gone on, it’d gotten easier to let the past lie.

“What’s this all about?” Missy said softly.

“Let’s just say that you’re not the only one with a past you’re not too proud of and leave it at that.”

“Tough to argue with that.”

Missy’s skeletons had rattled their bones in an effort to come out of the closet late one evening last summer when her presumed-dead husband, Jonas Abel, had shown up on her doorstep. It wasn’t long after that Missy had felt compelled to share everything with Sarah, even the fact that she’d come from an extremely wealthy family. Sarah had been angry at first, but their friendship had been too important to toss aside.

“Does this have anything to do with Brian’s dad?” Missy asked.

It had everything to do with him. Everything. Avoiding Missy’s gaze by fussing instead with the flower arrangement, she pulled out one stem after another only to replace each one in the same spot.

Jesse’s smirk. His deep voice. His laugh. The look in his eyes that made her skin flare with heat. How could she explain that Jesse reminded her a little of every man she’d ever dated before coming to Mirabelle, of the recklessness with which she’d once lived?

“Sarah, you’re my best friend.” Missy touched her hand. “There can’t possibly be anything in your past that will change our relationship today.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” If Missy knew the whole truth then she would never look at Sarah the same way again. In the back of her mind, it would be there. Always.

“If it’s something you did, didn’t do, I don’t care. You forgave me, didn’t you?”

Not the same thing. All Missy had been hiding is that she’d once been listed as one of the richest kids in America.

“You’re not giving me much credit,” Missy said.

Maybe she could share part of the truth. Only part. “It’s a long story, Missy.” She stuck one last iris stalk into the vase and called it a day. She could mess with this arrangement forever and it would never be perfect. “You sure you want to hear?”

“Come on, Sarah.” Missy smiled gently. “Tell me what’s going on with you.”

CHAPTER SIX

SARAH PUT THE ARRANGEMENT in the cooler and then turned. This was it. Time to get this off her chest—at least some of it—once and for all. “You knew I grew up in Indiana,” she said, leaning back against the wall and letting her thoughts wander back in time, an indulgence she rarely allowed herself. “But I’ve never told you much about my childhood. My family.”

“No,” Missy murmured.

“Well, as wealthy as your family was? Is, I should say. Mine was on the other end of the spectrum.”

“I’ve met your mom and dad,” Missy said, confusion on her face. “They seemed…middle-class.”

“You met my stepdad,” Sarah said. A few years back, when Brian was too small to take care of himself, her mom and stepdad had driven to Mirabelle to help with Brian during a particularly busy wedding season. “My real dad died when I was ten.”

“I’m sorry, Sarah. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay.” It really wasn’t, but maybe talking about him might help. Sarah’s real father had been the only bright spot in an otherwise dreary childhood, and she still missed him with a vengeance. “Before my dad died, we were dirt-poor.”

“That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“It’s nothing I’m proud of, that’s for sure. Maybe if my parents had only had a couple children things might’ve been different, but I’m smack-dab in the middle of seven kids. They could never afford a house, so all of us were crammed into a second-floor apartment, above a drugstore.

“My dad worked at an orchard. Long, back-breaking hours during certain times of the year. We hardly ever saw him at harvest time, but in the winter he made up for it with all of us. Work hard and play harder. That’s what he’d say.”

She smiled, remembering. She had only a few pictures of her dad, but in every one of them he was smiling or laughing. “He was always happy. I don’t think I ever saw him angry. At us kids. Or my mom. God, he and Mom were so much in love. He could make her laugh like no one else.

“I remember them talking quietly about buying a house. My dad wanted to start his own apple orchard, and my mom used to say that a house was the key to happiness.” Sarah looked away. “She also used to say, after he died, that he was all talk and no action.”

“Oh, Sarah.” Missy reached out and briefly squeezed her hand. “How did he die?”

“He got sick. Had a low fever. Didn’t seem to be a big deal.” She paused, not wanting to remember anything more than that. The rest was too painful. “A few days into it, he got really bad, but we couldn’t afford a doctor. By the time my mom realized how sick he was, it was too late. He died of complications from pneumonia. How stupid is that? All because we didn’t have enough money to pay for a doctor.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I was devastated. Heartbroken. We all were. My mom didn’t come out of her bedroom for days. Not long after that, we moved back to my mom’s hometown to be by my grandparents and she met my stepdad. He was an okay guy. Quiet and dependable. Nice enough—a banker—but boring, especially when compared to my dad. I understand now why she married him, but at the time I couldn’t forgive her.”

“For marrying again?”

“For betraying my father. More than that, for, I guess, settling. It wasn’t long before I started to feel…almost…claustrophobic. I couldn’t wait to get away from Indiana.”

“So you left,” Missy said.

Sarah nodded. “Right after high-school graduation, I went to Miami. When I got there, I felt shell-shocked. I’d been so sheltered.”

“A good girl in a big, tough city,” Missy murmured.

“I did okay at first. Picked up a lot. Fast. I got a job within the first week working for a well-known wedding planner. Her clients were only the richest and the most famous.”

Having grown up as a Camden, one of the wealthiest families this country had ever known, Missy had probably run in the same crowd until she’d turned her back on her family and tried for her own fresh start.

“I wasn’t as strong as you were, Missy. Before I knew it, I’d fallen in with a crowd that loved to party. Damn, I met some men who knew how to have a good time. But then, I guess, so did I.” She glanced at her friend, hoping to gauge her reaction. Instead of judgment, there was only compassion and understanding. Still, she knew she couldn’t share everything.

It’d been a long time since she’d let herself even think about the past, let alone talk about it, but as she relayed her story to Missy, it hit Sarah. She was lucky to be alive. “I did a lot of crazy things back then, you know?”

“Didn’t we all?”

There was no way Missy had stepped out like Sarah, and Sarah’s brief step out of line had been the biggest mistake of her life. “That’s when I met Brian’s dad.” Along with a few other bad boys she hadn’t been able to resist.

“You told me he died. I figured the rest would come when you were ready.” Missy frowned. “He is dead, isn’t he?”

“Yes.” Sarah chuckled. “This is one man who won’t be coming back from the grave. Good riddance to him, too.”

“That bad?”

“Robert Coleman, Jr. Name ring a bell?”

“Coleman and Coleman Enterprises?” Missy asked.

Sarah nodded.

“That company’s the largest health and beauty manufacturer in the world,” Missy went on. “That’s a lot of money. And power. How did you meet him?”

“At a nightclub. I was out partying with girlfriends when he and a couple other guys asked us to dance. Before you know it, we were all heading to Bobby’s yacht. Turned out I was a real sucker for a man’s smile. His was something. The kind that could charm a rosebud into blooming. Or a woman into bed. It wasn’t long before Bobby singled me out. One thing was for sure, that man knew how to have a good time.”

“When you have that kind of money, it’s one temptation after another.”

“For him or me?” Sarah shook her head and decided it was best to leave out a piece of the next part of her story. Just one small detail. “Then I got pregnant.” She held Missy’s gaze. “Overnight everything changed. Bobby mostly cleaned up his act and asked me to marry him. I agreed.”

Missy’s eyes misted with tears. “You loved him.”

“I suppose, in a way. There must’ve been a part of me that knew it wasn’t going to work because I set the wedding date for after the baby’s due date.”

More likely a part of her had known what she was doing had been wrong. She’d justified it by saying Bobby was cleaning up his act, but that had been no excuse.

“The wedding plans zipped along. Bobby and his mom pulled out all the stops and I fell deep into the quicksand, getting caught up in all the excitement. Saffron flowers and orchid bouquets. A handmade wedding gown. Over seven hundred guests at his mother’s estate in Miami Beach for a sit-down dinner.”

“Then Bobby screwed up.”

“Yeah. He completely disappeared for a few days. When he came back, he was like a little boy he was so sorry. Went straight again. Promised me the world. I believed him. That happened at least three times before Brian was born.

“He was out partying when I went into labor. Bobby showed up at the hospital the next day, all smiles and apologies, but looking like death warmed over. Still, I didn’t call off the wedding. I kept thinking that being a father would change things. It didn’t. I couldn’t even trust him to babysit.”

“So what happened?”

“A month before the wedding, he went off the deep end. Got busted with so much cocaine and heroin he could’ve supplied a small army for a few months. That’s when his mom entered the picture in a big way.”

“Trish Coleman?” Missy asked. “One of Fortune 500’s most powerful women?”

“That’s her.” Sarah nodded. “Since I’d signed a prenup, she’d been cordial throughout the engagement and Brian’s birth. But when they charged Bobby, she went on the warpath. When she couldn’t get the police to drop the charges, she turned on me. Blamed me for what happened. Said that if I hadn’t gotten pregnant, Bobby would’ve been fine. That the pressure of being a father was too much for him.”

“So it was all your fault.”

“Basically. She said I’d been a bad influence and hired a private investigator to dig up anything he could on me. And, trust me.” Shame swept through Sarah as she glanced at Missy. “He found plenty.”

“Did she threaten to take Brian away from you?”

“Not right away,” Sarah whispered.

“Was Bobby in jail yet?”

“No. He was out on bail.”

“He did nothing to stop his mom?”

“Worse than nothing. He told me she didn’t matter. He told me that the possibility of going to jail had scared the hell out of him. He promised he’d straighten out. He promised he’d be there for me and Brian. He promised everything I needed to hear. And I believed him.”

It was his damned smile.

“I always knew you were a softy at heart,” Missy said.

Sarah sighed. “He went to jail, but Trish got him out on probation. He spent one night with me and then took off with friends. They found him dead a day later in the back room of some club. Heroin overdose.”

“I’m sorry, Sarah.”

“Probably the best thing for everyone.”

“Did Bobby’s mom sue for custody of Brian?”

Sarah looked away. “Yeah. She did.”

“But you won.”

She nodded. “That’s when I moved back to Indiana.” In truth, she’d gone back to her mom and stepdad’s house defeated, her tail between her legs, and stayed there for years. Until she’d drummed up enough courage to strike out on her own again with Brian and move to Mirabelle.

“I don’t blame you for not wanting to talk about this.” Missy reached out and rubbed Sarah’s arm. “I would’ve closed the book on that chapter in my life, too.”

“Would’ve been nice if that chapter had never been written in the first place.”

“I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss what happened.” Missy smiled, her own experiences lending a quiet wisdom to her gaze. “It’s what’s gotten you to where you are today.”

In fact, she almost hadn’t lived through that time in her life. “Brian and I coming here for a long weekend is what got me to where I am today.”

That summer five years ago, she’d known almost upon stepping off the ferry that this was where she and Brian needed to live. Mirabelle had been the answer to getting out on her own for which she’d been looking. She’d been living—hiding—at her parents’ home long enough. It’d been long past time to strike out on her own again, and Mirabelle felt better than home.

“So much for my walk on the wild side,” Sarah said, smiling.

“So I take it Garrett’s brother reminds you all too much of Bobby?”

“They have the same smile.” Sarah swallowed, remembering Jesse’s face, the curve of his lips.

“The one that could charm a rosebud into blooming?”

Sarah laughed. “Exactly.”

“You’re attracted to him.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Missy raised her eyebrows. “Is that so bad?”

Just looking at him brought back every one of those good-timing men Sarah had lost herself in. There was no way she was going down that path again. “It is when it’s coupled with jail time.”

“Garrett’s brother went to jail? What did he do?”

“I don’t know. Garrett’s leaving it to his brother to tell people, and when I asked Jesse, he refused to enlighten me.”

“Sarah, you know Garrett wouldn’t let anyone dangerous work with you on your house. Jesse must have his own reasons for keeping his past to himself. It’s hard to say what those reasons might be, but I’m sure they’re good ones.”

That was Missy. Always ready to give people the benefit of the doubt. Well, that wasn’t Sarah’s way. “That all depends on what Jesse did to land himself in prison, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose,” Missy said. “But if you were immune to Jesse as a man that wouldn’t be a problem, would it?”

But she wasn’t immune. Not even close. One walk on the wild side had almost ruined her life. What kind of damage could a second one do?

THE PHOTOGRAPHS WERE ALWAYS the WORST, the hardest to look at on the entire website. Family positioned around Hank Bowman’s hospital bed. Hank forcing out a smile for the camera. His wife holding his hand. His mother looking at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

Sitting on the bed with Garrett’s laptop in front of him, Jesse made himself face the images head-on. He forced himself to flip through every single photo and every single journal entry that had been loaded onto the website Hank’s sister had set up for their family and friends to keep track of Hank’s recovery.

Hank had spent not only his birthday in the hospital, but also that first Christmas and New Year’s after the accident—assault was more like it. He’d had to go back into the hospital several times over the course of the next couple of years for more surgeries. In every single one of the pictures Hank looked pale and bruised, thin and sickly.

Over the past four years, more than three thousand messages from friends and family expressing their best wishes for Hank’s recovery had accumulated and Jesse had read every single one of them at least once. Had even memorized a few.

There were also newspaper articles about the trial, or lack thereof. There was even a picture of Jesse handcuffed and coming out of the county jail. Family members expressed not only their disdain but also outright hostility toward Jesse. He didn’t blame them in the slightest.

There was only one bright spot in Hank’s entire ordeal. Hank had started a new career as a motivational speaker and already had released two successful self-help-type books. As far as Jesse was concerned the use of a man’s legs was too high a price to pay for financial success.

Finally, Jesse closed down the laptop and stood, knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep for a while yet. His throat dry from the winter air, he headed toward the kitchen. The moment the voices registered, quiet and intimate, he stopped and backed up.

“Come here,” Garrett whispered.

“Is that an order, Chief Taylor?”

“Damn right it is.”

So much for a glass of water. Jesse went to his bedroom and plopped down on the bed. Now they were moving around upstairs. One person went into the master bathroom. Then another. Then the sounds of water running. A shower. Together.

The more Jesse tried not to listen, the more his ears trained to the sounds. Footsteps across the floor. More footsteps in chase. Quiet laughter. Jesse laid on his back in bed, his eyes wide-open, sleep nothing but a pipe dream. He glanced at the clock. Past midnight. He had to get out of this place, but where the hell could he go?

More laughter.

That was it. He couldn’t stand another second of it. Pulling a sleeping bag and pad out of the closet in his room, he packed a bag with a few things and quietly walked outside.

Sarah’s house was empty. Hell, he spent most of the day there as it was. What difference would seven or eight more hours make whenever Erica and Garrett got a little too frisky upstairs? It’s not as if he’d make a regular habit out of sleeping at Sarah’s, so she’d never have to know.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“BRIAN, GO GET ME a Philips screwdriver.”

Seemed as if no matter what Jesse said or did, the two boys stopped by here almost every day after school. He’d finally decided that if he was going to be stuck with them, he might as well make the most of it. Today Brian had come alone. Apparently, Zach had too much homework and would be by later.

Brian came back with the wrong type of tool.

“That’s what you call a standard screwdriver. See the flat head?” Jesse straightened and headed from the bathroom into the hall. “Come on. Let’s go have a lesson on tools, so you know what’s what.”

The boy followed him out into the main living area. One by one, he explained the name of every single tool Garrett had let him leave at Sarah’s house and how they were used. Then he explained the difference between the various type of screws and nails. “If you use too small of a screwdriver, you’ll strip the head off a screw.”

“What does that mean?”

“See these grooves?” Jesse pointed. “You’ll tear them right up if your tool doesn’t fit properly.”

“You know a lot about construction,” Brian said. “How did you learn all this stuff?”

“My dad.”

“You’re lucky. I wish I had a dad to teach me things.”

Jesse snorted. “You probably wouldn’t be saying that if you’d known my dad.”

“Why?”

“He wasn’t very nice. If any one of us four boys stepped out of line even the slightest, he’d whack us. He threw a shovel at me once and hit me in the back of the head just because I wasn’t moving fast enough after he’d told me to go get a hammer.”

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.