Joe loaded the large five-gallon containers onto a
flat metal wagon and pulled them up to the register with little effort. Taylor followed behind his lanky strides.
Once there, slowly and meticulously he calculated the totals.
Taylor tried not to stare at him so she bought extra
planting soil and one small decorative pot she spotted at the last minute.
He smiled and one dimple popped up on his cheek, and
while she was in the territory, she noticed a small patch of reddish beard
growing just beneath his lower lip.
As he continued to smile, she glimpsed a tiny gap
between otherwise straight front teeth.
His grin seemed kind and welcoming.
Oh, please don’t do that. She smiled back and felt her cheeks warm up,
again. They stood grinning at each other
for an awkward moment or two before it occurred to her that he was waiting for
her to pay.
“Oh! Excuse
me.” She got out her debut card then handed it to him. “Here.”
He was still smiling when he took it. Fine lines fanned out from those pale brown
eyes on an otherwise tanned face. He had
a long nose, masculine and appealing.
Deep creases shot up his cheeks and accentuated his single-dimple
smile. She recovered from his charming
assault while he ran the card through the machine.
When
the nurseryman handed her the receipt, she avoided his gaze. All men were scoundrels weren’t they? He walked her and the purchases to the car in
humble silence making her want to squirm; still she couldn’t ignore how well he
filled out his jeans. After pulling the
wagon to the bumper, he lay plastic on the back seat and car floor with great
care placed the shrubs inside.
He certainly didn’t seem like a scoundrel. Problem was, neither had Clay, nor Matt, nor
Gary, nor Rich, at first, and her judgment was still in serious need of
adjustment.
“Thank you for all of your help,” Taylor said. “It was very … helpful.” Cringe.
“You’re welcome, Taylor.” He surprised her. She figured he noticed her name from the
debit card. She looked for a nametag or
something on him, but couldn’t find one.
Once again, stuck without words, and hesitant to ask his name figuring
what was the point, she simply nodded when he shut the hatchback.
##
Just before pulling the empty cart back to the front
of the nursery, Joe Collins stopped and watched the sleek, auburn-haired woman,
with amazing green eyes, wipe the dust from her hands and get into her
car. He’d noticed her when she’d first
walked into the nursery. He’d gone back
to work, but attempted to keep track of her whereabouts without being too
obvious. Because of the headphones, he’d
hardly heard the sound of her sandals crunching on gravel when she’d approached. The sight of the woman’s feet, complete with
a delicate braided silver toe ring and deep red pedicure, had highjacked his
attention. Something he hadn’t allowed
himself to feel in ages had made itself known and surprised him. Attraction.
Those feet were attached to long, shapely legs that
had been close enough to touch, and a verse from the Song of Solomon came to
mind - How beautiful your sandaled
feet… your graceful legs are like jewels, the work of a craftsman’s hands. To distract from his wayward thoughts,
he’d spoken to her and helped her choose the plants.
His gaze lingered on the foot that dangled
gracefully a second or two before slipping inside her car. He returned the headphones to his ears and
released the pause button as she backed out and drove off. Another verse accompanied an uncomfortable
longing. Who is this that appears like the dawn, fair as the moon, bright as the
sun?
Now itchy and restless, he switched from classical
to country. The up-tempo song helped
blast away his unwanted feelings until a short time later, when Brad Paisley
sang some words that hit home, and Joe agreed that life was more interesting
now that Taylor had come to town.
When I sat down to write this book, I had the image of a formerly
bubbly, beautiful young woman, who had changed drastically in the thirteen
years since she’d met and fallen in love with her high-school sweetheart. He’d
left for boot camp, been chosen for Special Forces, become a Green Beret medic, traveled the world, and carried on with his life. She’d made a painful
decision, harbored a huge secret, and paid a devastatingly high emotional
price. And it had changed her life. The choices we make in our youth often come
back to haunt us.
As this reunion story unfolds, I hope you’ll fall in love with my
gorgeous hero, Beck, as much as I did. And I suspect, once you’ve scratched the
gruff exterior of my heroine, January, you’ll want to be friends with her.
A bit about Special Forces medics here. They are first on scene in
the battlefield, and what they do for the injured can save lives. Their
training is intense, and in all my years in nursing I haven’t come close to
doing many of the procedures our medics learn in their Special Forces training.
Hats off to those who volunteer for this difficult job. There is only one word
to describe them. Heroes!
I love to hear from readers. If I’ve struck a chord with you in
this book, let me know. Or if you’d just like to say hello, you can visit me at
my website: www.lynnemarshall.com.
Thirteen
years back Beck Braxton enlisted in the Army and left town, but not before
asking his girl to wait for him. She didn't. Now he needs a Medic refresher
course and the RN he's assigned to is the last person he wants to see.
January
Stewart gave up being that bubbly, carefree girl who'd fallen in love with her
high school bad boy when she was forced to make a painful decision all by
herself. Thirteen years later she harbors a huge secret.
She
owes him the truth. He wants to get even. But that old chemistry keeps messing
up their plans...
Jan finally had a
chance to take her dinner break around eight
p.m. She notified Carmen and headed for the nurses’ lounge. Unable
to wait one more second to read the special letter, she dug it out of her
pocket and ripped it open. This time every year, as promised, the updated
letter arrived.
A shining smile from
Meghan Jean greeted her inside the envelope. She’d be twelve and a half now,
and in seventh grade. Long dark brown French braids rested on her bony
shoulders. A handful of freckles were sprinkled across her nose, a nose very
much like Jan’s. But the eyes were definitely placed and shaped like her
father’s, except their color was blue...like hers.
Dear January,
We’re reporting in
on this year’s progress with our daughter. Meghan has joined the track team and
also loves to dance. She scored in the top ten percent for her annual
scholastic testing and her teachers want to place her in some gifted classes.
It seems that out of the blue she has discovered a love of art, and wants to
take painting classes. She continues to be a warm and loving girl with a
natural excitement and curiosity for life even though puberty is fast
approaching. Meghan absolutely hates wearing braces, but we’ve discovered clear
wires and sometimes she likes to have bright blue ones applied just for fun. As
you know, she’s quite the ham and keeps Daryl and me laughing. We promised her
a Disney World vacation this year and she can barely go to sleep each night
from thinking about it.
On another note,
something new has cropped up in school. Meghan’s science class is studying
genetics and genealogy and she is suddenly bursting with questions about her
birth parents. Would it be okay for us to tell her a bit more about you? We
understand that you never named the father, but if there is any information
whatsoever you can provide, we’d appreciate it.
As always, Daryl and
I are so grateful to you for your unselfish act and want you to know we treat
our daughter as the precious gift she is. We pray that life is treating you
well.
All the best,
The Williams
The last part of the
letter went blurry. Had it been an unselfish act? Could giving her daughter
away to strangers in an open adoption be considered anything less than an easy
way out for a frightened seventeen-year-old? Sure, they had been well screened,
willing and anxious to become parents, but they’d solved her “problem” and life
had never been the same since.
She glanced again at
the school picture, and choked back her tears.
The door flew open
behind her. “Apparently only the nurses keep fresh coffee in the pot,” Beck
said.
Jan startled,
dropping the letter, and the picture went flying through the air to the floor.
She scrambled to reach it before Beck could see, but he was just as quick.
She leaned. He
knelt. They almost bumped heads. They looked into each other’s eyes. Fear of
being found out sent a rocket fueled with adrenaline through her chest. His
hand rested on top of hers on the picture on the floor.
Lynne Marshall used to worry she had a serious problem with day
dreaming, until she discovered she was supposed to write those stories. Now
traditionally published with Harlequin for more than ten years with over
twenty-five books as a category romance author, and more recently with TULE
Publishing, she has also gone hybrid. She
is a Southern California native, has been married to a New Englander for a long
time, and has two adult children of whom she is super proud. She is also an
adoring grandmother of two beautiful little girls, a woman of faith, a dog
lover (Milo can vouch for that), a cat admirer, a meandering walker, a curious
traveler, and an optimistic participant in this wild journey called life.
There is a lot to catch up with your amazing stories. I love reading your books and I thank you for your wonderful stories that you created for me. I am deeply touch by them and I feel connected with you.
ReplyDeleteDear Sophi anne = Thank you for your kind words. ;) That's what writers live for.
DeleteI've thoroughly enjoyed every story you've written. You don't just scratch the surface of genuine emotion. Looking forward to many more of your books.
ReplyDeleteDear Robena -
DeleteYou are too kind. I try my best to wring the emotion out of my characters, and sometimes it takes a toll on me! Thanks for commenting.
Wonderful blog! I am reading your book, Her Baby, His Love and enjoying it! I always like hearing about how a book comes to fruition by the author! Charlene Sands
ReplyDeleteHello Charlene! Oh, now I'm nervous knowing such a wonderful author is reading my book. This TULE book is a bit of a departure for me, but I loved telling the story the way I wanted. Thanks for your support!
Delete