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      MILLS & BOON

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      The fruit of righteousness will be peace;

       the effect of righteousness will be

       quietness and confidence forever.

      —Isaiah 32:17

      To the Frys,

       Thank you for sharing your gifts and talents

       with those who need them most.

      (Especially your cherry pecan bread pudding

       shared with the Mindels.)

      Acknowledgments

      I’d like to thank Randy with Runge Industries Inc for his time spent answering my many questions about cherry farming. I hope I got it right! And the folks at NWMHRS for their research help as well. My sincere thanks!

      To my agent, Karen Solem, for believing in me. And my editor, Melissa Endlich, for her encouragement. Thank you both!

      To my red-pen-wielding husband, for his endless patience and support. You speak my Love Language!

      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

      Epilogue

      Letter to Reader

      Questions for Discussion

      Chapter One

      Eva placed a tray of cut dough in the oven and then peered out the window. The wind moaned, making snow swirl against a gray January afternoon sky. The weather might not be as horrible as predicted, but it was bad enough to cancel school on a Friday. In northern Michigan that was pretty bad. As she cleaned off her flour-covered workspace at the island counter, a knock at the door made her jump.

      Wiping damp hands against the back of her jeans, Eva crossed the kitchen floor and opened the door. A man with blue eyes the color of laser beams stood on the porch.

      “Eve Marsh?” He smiled at her. A devastatingly handsome smile.

      “It’s Eva.” Since when did she sound so out of breath?

      He held out his hand. “I’m Adam. Adam Peece.”

      Eva sucked in the gasp ready to escape. She’d accepted the job he’d offered over the phone this very morning.

      “Sorry about not calling before dropping by, but I was on my way to the area and made better time than I thought. Last-minute decision.”

      Regardless of the high opinion her father had for the guy who’d bought the family cherry orchard, one look at Adam Peece and Eva knew he was not the kind of guy she’d trust. He was too polished, too good-looking, and his fingers didn’t look as if they’d ever been dirty.

      He grinned as he let his hand drop. “Is this a bad time?”

      Eva thought briefly about closing the door on him but backed up instead. “Oh, no. Sorry. Come in and let me take your coat.”

      He shrugged out of an expensive black wool peacoat, revealing snug black jeans topped by a charcoal-gray sweater. He looked as if he’d stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine. His build was slender but obviously well exercised. The sleek boots gave him the decided air of a European jet-setter.

      And this guy wanted her to teach him to grow cherries? No way. A downstater like him was bound to ruin the orchard, change it or worse—develop it.

      He stepped farther into the kitchen. “Something smells incredible.”

      Eva hesitated.

      But her roommate, Beth, who sat at the kitchen table with her second-grade lesson plans, popped up to play hostess. “Eva’s famous cherry scones. Would you like one with coffee?”

      His grin was quick and brilliant, showcasing even white teeth. “Absolutely.”

      Eva nearly growled at her friend. Peece was bound to stay if they offered him food, but there was no getting around it. She retreated behind the island counter but not before noticing the flash of interest in Adam’s eyes when he looked at Beth. A guy would have to be dead not to notice her statuesque friend. “Mr. Peece, this is Beth Ryken, my roommate.”

      “Nice to meet you.” Adam extended his hand.

      Beth took it, and her long blond hair fell around her face, making her look even more angelic. “Have a seat.”

      Eva might have been dazzled at first—it wasn’t every day a male-model type stopped in for visit—but she’d gathered her wits. “Mr. Peece—”

      “Call me Adam.” He slipped onto a stool tucked under the island counter’s

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