Look who’s in town!
The last person Alma Blanchard expects to waltz into her bayou café is Julien LeBlanc. If seeing him again weren’t painful enough, her handsome ex-beau announces that he aims to settle down with her. The boy she broke up with in high school was not the settling-down type! As his courting continues, though, Julien softens her heart with his devotion and faith. But how can she ever forgive him and put aside her fear that he’ll break her heart again? Alma has always believed a happily-ever-after just wasn’t meant for her. What will it take for Julien to prove her wrong?
“What do you think you’re doing, Julien?”
“Me? I’m walking you to work. Kind of romantic, don’t you think?”
“Why aren’t you at work?”
“I was, before the sun came up. I stopped in to have a late breakfast and you…were missing.”
“So you tracked me down and embarrassed me yet again?”
She trotted off at a fast pace, but felt his hand warm on her arm. “I don’t want to embarrass you.”
“Then what do you call this?”
Julien leaned close, his dark eyes holding hers. “I call this making up for lost time. I’m yours, Alma. And I believe it’s time we both get used to that idea.”
Alma’s shock caused her to gasp. “Mine? You were never mine. And I’ll never be yours. You might have considered that before you decided to launch an attack on me.”
“I’m not attacking, darlin’,” he said on a whisper. “I’m wooing. I want to make you mine.”
Sweetheart Reunion
Lenora Worth
MILLS & BOON
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Therefore with joy shall ye
draw water out of the wells of salvation.
—Isaiah 12:3
Contents
Chapter One
Another day, another dollar.
Alma Blanchard stood inside the empty Fleur Bakery and Café, watching the first rays of sunrise crest with all the magnificence of a giant golden shield over the still, lush Louisiana bayou. The scent of fresh-baked bread and crisp bacon filled the air and the long kitchen at the back of the café sizzled and fizzed with morning activity.
She put down her coffee, brushed strands of long dark hair away from her face and steeled herself for the busy morning rush. The old clapboard restaurant echoed with the tap of her sneakers on the aged cypress floors. She’d just turned the key inside the big industrial lock when a face, silhouetted against the slanted rays of the dawn sun, appeared on the other side of the glass paneled doors.
A face she’d just as soon not see so early in the morning.
Julien LeBlanc.
He grinned at her, flashing dimples and dark onyx eyes that always reminded her of a bayou night. Pushing a calloused, tanned hand through his thick dark bangs, he said, “C’mon, chère, open up. I’m needing some
