LITMIR.BIZ

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      CHRISTINE RIMMER

      came to her profession the long way around. Before settling down to write about the magic of romance, she’d been everything from an actress to a salesclerk to a waitress. Now that she’s finally found work that suits her perfectly, she insists she never had a problem keeping a job—she was merely gaining “life experience” for her future as a novelist. Christine is grateful not only for the joy she finds in writing, but for what waits when the day’s work is through: a man she loves, who loves her right back, and the privilege of watching their children grow and change day to day. She lives with her family in Oklahoma. Visit Christine at www.christinerimmer.com.

      For Betty Lowe, a dear friend and dedicated reader.

      This one’s just for you, Betty.

      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 One

      Lynn Taylor set down her pencil. “Sara?”

      The child, the only one of Lynn’s kindergartners who hadn’t left for the day, lifted her shining blond head from the picture she’d been working on.

      “What time is it?” Lynn asked.

      Sara turned to look at the clock on the wall above the chalkboard. “Little hand on the twelve. Big hand on the two….” Her expression turned grave as she processed that information. After a moment she ventured cautiously, “Ten minutes after twelve?”

      “That’s right.”

      A sunny smile burst forth. “That means my mommy’s coming real soon to take you for your birthday surprise.”

      “Yes, she is. And I think you’d better—”

      “It’s a big surprise, Miss Taylor.”

      “I know. Your mother told me. And so did you. Several times.”

      “And I can’t tell you anything more.”

      “You told me that, too.”

      “Because Mommy said you have to wait. That’s what it means, when you get a surprise. You wait and wait.”

      “Yes, and I think you’d better—”

      “It’s like at Christmas, when you have a big present and it’s under the tree and your mommy won’t let you even tear off just a little bit of the pretty paper to see what’s in there. And every morning you get up and you look at it and you know you can’t open it till Christmas. And that kind of makes you a little bit mad, because you want to know what it is so bad. But you are etcited, too, because you know it’s something real special in there, maybe a great big doll or…everything for a puppy that would grow up to be just like Jenny’s dog, Sugar.”

      “Sara—”

      “You know, I mean, your mommy couldn’t put a puppy in a box for all that time, so it would just be the puppy bed and some puppy food and bones for him to chew on. And your mommy would be keeping the puppy someplace safe so that, when Christmas morning came, you could—”

      “Sara.”

      The child caught herself—finally. “Uh. Yes, Miss Taylor?”

      Lynn mimed pulling a zipper across her lips.

      “Oh. Okay.”

      “I think it’s time you put your picture away and got ready to go.”

      “Yes, Miss Taylor…but you know what?”

      “What?”

      “I really hope I get a puppy someday.”

      “And maybe you will. But right now—”

      “I know.” She giggled. “Zipper my lip.”

      “That’s right.”

      Holding her drawing in one hand, Sara flipped up her desktop with the other—then peeked around the top at Lynn. “And put my coat on.”

      “Yes.” Lynn closed her lesson plan book and stuck it in her top desk drawer as Sara tucked her drawing away, shut her desk and pushed her chair back.

      Right then, there were three strong taps on the door that led to the outside hall. Sara chirped out, “I’ll get it! It’s probably Mommy….” She shoved her chair into place under the desk and darted for the door, grasping the steel knob and giving it a hearty push.

      The door swung outward on its hydraulic hinge and a chilly gust of October wind blew in, ruffling the loose papers on Lynn’s desk. Lynn saw them start to fly. With a low laugh, she put her hand over the stack. “Come on in and close that—”

      “It’s not my mommy,” said Sara. “It’s a man.”

      Lynn looked up—and right into a pair of dark, uncompromising eyes.

      Her gaze moved down, over strong cheekbones and a well-shaped nose. Along a square jaw and a chin possessed of an absolutely perfect masculine cleft. His clothing—a chocolate-brown sport coat, dark slacks and tooled boots—spoke quietly of money. Lynn knew who he was. Ross Garrison. Whitehorn’s new lawyer. Lynn had never actually met him, but she’d seen him around town. And her younger stepsister, Trish, was his secretary. Since Trish lived with Lynn, Lynn had heard all about him, in gushing, adoring detail.

      Another gust of wind blew in. Lynn shivered. And found her voice. “Mr. Garrison, isn’t it?”

      “Yes.”

      “Well, please. Come in. And let Sara close the door.”

      He stepped into the classroom. Sara pulled the door shut. Lynn took her hand off the stack of papers and stood. Resisting the urge to smooth out her plain wool skirt, she moved around from behind the desk.

      “I’m looking for Lynn Taylor,” the lawyer announced. “The woman at the office said—”

      “You

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