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      ABOUT THE AUTHOR

      The mother of three sports-minded sons, Joanne Rock’s primary occupation is carting kids to practices and cheering on their athletic prowess at any number of sporting events. In the windows of time between football games, she loves to write and cheer on happily-ever-afters. A three-time RITA^® Award nominee, Joanne is the author of more than fifty books for a variety of Harlequin series. She has been an RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award nominee and multiple Reviewers’ Choice finalist, including a nomination for The Captive (Blaze #534) as Best Blaze of 2010. Her work has been reprinted in twenty-six countries and translated into nineteen languages. Over two million copies of her books are in print. For more information on Joanne’s books, visit www.joannerock.com.

      To Dean,

       no stranger to weathering the occasional storm.

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      1

      Chatham, Massachusetts

      ONE DAY, Josie Passano would be a world-famous interior decorator, and she would hire a personal driver. Then she would have someone to guide her around dark marinas at midnight to meet with clients who were too busy to see her at a reasonable hour.

      Stepping carefully along the planked pier with boats tied up on both sides, she was grateful she’d at least thought to wear flats instead of the heels she normally preferred for client meetings. At five foot three, she liked the height and sense of presence a pair of heels could give her—probably a holdover from her days as a fashion designer. Of course, that was before all hell had broken loose in her former career. But tonight, under an inky sky, with waves splashing up onto the dock, wearing heels would have landed her at the bottom of the Atlantic for sure.

      “Slip number thirty-nine, which one are you?” Shivering in the cooling late-summer air, Josie squinted at the tiny numbers etched into stone slab markers near the boats. She wished there were some signs of life on one of the decks so she could ask someone. How could she tell which watercraft went with which slip when there was a sailboat between thirty-seven and thirty-nine, plus a sailboat between thirty-nine and forty-one, but none directly in front of the markers?

      With nothing to suggest one direction or the other, Josie tugged her cell phone out of her pocket and called her client, Wall Street bigwig Chase Freeman, for input on his boat’s whereabouts.

      “Chase, I’m standing between slip thirty-seven and thirty-nine and having a devil of a time figuring out which boat is yours.” She peered around the docks, wishing the marina office was still open. “Can you call me back?”

      Chase had requested a meeting on the vessel she hoped to decorate to fatten up her interior-design portfolio. They were distantly related—he was someone she saw at family wakes and weddings—but she’d never particularly cared for him. He’d acted as if he was doing her a big favor while being difficult about agreeing on a time to meet. But she’d persevered because she needed the account, and it wasn’t as if her packed schedule presented her with many openings, either.

      By the time all was said and done, he’d insisted he couldn’t do the meeting any other time but after a friend’s engagement party in Chatham, name-dropping that the shindig was for Ryan Murphy. The Murphys were a well-known, mega-rich Cape Cod family, and the oldest son’s engagement had been in the society papers in Boston, where her business was based. These days, Josie only read those papers to search for potential clients. She still held a grudge against the tabloids after they’d raked her over the coals for being a “party girl” when she was younger and circulating socially to promote her work in fashion. She’d put the fallout from those days to rest when she’d changed her name and left New York City. But she was still

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