LITMIR.BIZ

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter One

      “I ’m definitely not in California anymore.”

      Rebecca Parrish Wallingford turned in a slow circle, her gaze sweeping the ranch yard. She braced herself against the open door of the rental car and took in the buildings set in a neat half circle around the dusty square. Weather and time had long since stripped the paint from the two-storied ranch house until it was a uniform dark gray. A tall, gnarled maple shaded the left side of the house, its leafy branches brushing against gray wood, the second story’s sashed windows and the roof of the deep porch that edged the front of the house. A matching maple sheltered the other side of the house, set back and slightly nearer the far end of the structure.

      The building was silent, slumbering beneath the hot June sun. If people were within, Rebecca could neither see nor hear them.

      She glanced past the house to the sprawling outbuildings on her left. New lumber and shingles created a patchwork of pale color against the weathered walls and roof of the large barn while the attached corral was constructed entirely of raw, unpainted wood. Three dusty pickup trucks stood outside a long shed just beyond the corral. The sound of hammers thudding against nails and the high-pitched scream of a saw slicing through wood broke the afternoon quiet.

      A man stepped from the dim interior of the shed into the hot sunlight and strode toward the trucks.

      He glanced toward the house, saw Rebecca and abruptly changed direction to angle away from the back of a truck loaded with lumber, and move toward her.

      He was shirtless, a tool-hung carpenter’s belt riding low on his hips, its weight dragging the waistband of faded denim jeans below his navel. A straw cowboy hat shaded his face, leather gloves on his hands. Rebecca stared, riveted by the slow saunter of long legs, the gleam of hot sunlight on sleek brown shoulders, the supple flex and shift of muscles as he moved.

      “Afternoon, ma’am.” He halted a few feet away. “Something I can do for you? Are you lost?”

      His voice was a deep drawl. She felt the impact of his gaze when it met hers as if he’d reached out and touched her.

      Shivers feathered up Rebecca’s spine and heat grew, easing its way through her body. Her black linen suit and white cotton shell, chosen for traveling in the summer heat, felt suddenly much too warm. Shocked by her reaction, she took a mental step back and desperately sought detachment.

      Sweat dewed the angles and hollows of his face, dampening the ends of his hair where it curled, a shade too long, behind his ears and at his nape. Thick eyebrows, the same deep brown as his hair, arched over dark gold eyes, the sharply defined cheekbones—fit companions to a blade of a nose that was slightly crooked. Rebecca wondered fleetingly

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