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      ABOUT THE AUTHOR

      Was Cara Summers born with the dream of becoming a published romance novelist? No. But now that she is, she still feels her dream has come true. She loves writing for the Harlequin Blaze line because it allows her to create strong, determined women and seriously sexy men who will risk everything to achieve their dreams. Cara has written more than thirty-five novels for Harlequin Books, and when she isn’t working on new stories, she teaches in the writing program at Syracuse University and at a community college near her home.

      To Lt. Col. Ray “Borg” Bowen,

       Commander and Professor of Aerospace Studies

       at Syracuse University. Thank you so much for the

       time you spent explaining to me what it means

       to be in the Air Force and to fly fighter planes.

       My story is so much richer because of you, and

       I will treasure being an honorary “Airman” forever.

      Contents

      Prologue

      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

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Epilogue

      Prologue

      PERFECT TIMING, Maggie Fortune thought as she climbed out of her red Corvette. The nearly empty parking lot told her that the noon Mass at the Church of St. Francis had ended so she and Father Mike Flynn could meet right away.

      That suited her fine. What didn’t suit her was that even the fast ride in her sporty convertible hadn’t quite settled her nerves. Her birthday party started at five, but thanks to her houseman Grady, all the details had been seen to. It was her meeting with Father Mike that was making her nervous.

      Ridiculous. She hurried toward the church. She’d known the priest when she’d been plain old Maggie Nash. They’d gone to grade school together. He’d married her to her late husband, Thaddeus Fortune IV, and he’d held her hand at the funerals of her husband and of her sons. And it wasn’t that she was up to anything that was morally wrong. She just wanted to cover all her bases.

      So why were her hands damp? Damn it! Damn them!

      She started up the long flight of stairs that led to the front door, taking pride in the fact that although she was celebrating her seventy-fifth birthday, she wasn’t short of breath when she reached the top.

      Well, not very short of breath. Still, she caught herself taking a few deep ones as she hurried up the center aisle of the church. Dim light filtered through stained glass, but she made out a few people still lingering on the side altar where the statue of St. Francis stood enclosed in a glass case.

      As her eyes grew more accustomed to the dimness, she watched the small group turn away and descend the steps. Then she spotted Father Mike still standing in front of the statue. Perfect, she thought again. She’d be in and out of here in fifteen minutes. Tops.

      Her talent for timing things well had been helpful throughout her life and especially since her husband’s death twenty years ago when she’d taken over the job of running the Fortune family’s various business interests. In the corporate world, timing could be everything. And it was equally important in personal matters, too.

      As she drew closer, Father Mike dropped to his knees to say a prayer. Not wanting to intrude, Maggie halted and let her gaze lift to the statue. It looked as small and unassuming as the first time she’d seen it. Originally, the marble figure had been donated to the Franciscan Capuchin order by an

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