Dear Reader,
Welcome home! Even if you’ve never been to Shelter Valley before, you’ll soon realize you’ve got a home here. Anyone with a big heart is welcome in this Arizona town, where folks look out for each other, sometimes struggle with each other, always share each other’s pains and triumphs.
It’s an especially exciting time here because Shelter Valley’s own prodigal son, Sam Montford IV, heir to the town’s founding family, is finally returning home after ten years of silence. And he’s not alone. He has a seven-year-old daughter with him. His ex-wife, whom he still loves and who still loves him, is single and living in Shelter Valley again. Could be the makings of a happily-ever-after…
What I hope will really make you feel at home is the fact that all is not perfect in Shelter Valley. Just like anywhere in the world. We all have faults. And sometimes finding them in others is comforting, makes them more like us, allowing us to relate to them more easily. Sam Montford made a substantial mistake. But he’s ready to atone for that mistake and to share with Shelter Valley the good things he’s created in his life. He asks only to be forgiven.
And in Shelter Valley he has a chance of finding that forgiveness. This is the gift I wish for you—a true home, a sheltering home. A home where love is unconditional, acceptance a promise kept and forgiveness a reality.
Sweet dreams,
Tara Taylor Quinn
Tara Taylor Quinn is a popular writer for Harlequin’s Superromance series; she is known for her deeply emotional and psychologically astute novels. Sheltered in His Arms is connected to her successful Superromance trilogy, “Shelter Valley Stories” (but of course can be read on its own).
Tara was first published in 1993 and has been a finalist for the prestigious RITA Award. She lives in Arizona with her husband and daughter. Besides being a full-time writer, Tara is a board member of Romance Writers of America.
You can reach Tara at P.O. Box 15065, Scottsdale, Arizona 85267-5065 or online at http://members.home.net.ttquinn.
Sheltered in His Arms
Tara Taylor Quinn
Shelter Valley is about friendships, the kind that go beyond the ordinary. It’s about friends who become a family all their own. I lovingly dedicate this book to the three such friends I’ve been blessed with in my life:
Jeanine Lynn Clayton (1960-2000).
My childhoood soul mate. An integral part of my life that transcends the tragedy this temporal existence handed us. Your life was and always will be a part of me. With me. Sitting on my shoulder.
Kevin Scott Reames.
My partner, my champion, my lover. You helped me find the me I was meant to become and loved the person who emerged. Together, forever. That’s me and you.
Patricia Anne Meredith.
My own private angel. You continue to teach me to believe in things that matter, to hope, to find good in the world around me. Just as you do. My eternal soul mate.
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
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
HER HIGH-HEELED evening sandals hadn’t been made for sprinting across gravel. And the Montfords’ desert landscaping was full of it. The darkness made things even worse.
But she had to get away—get out. She had to handle this news alone.
There was an old gnarled pepper tree in the corner of the yard and she hurried toward it. One branch had grown sideways, forming a natural bench with the other branches hanging down around it. Because of the balmy late-March weather they’d been enjoying in Shelter Valley, the tree was thickly covered with leaves. She could safely hide there.
For the moment. Until someone decided to turn on the outside lights.
“Ouch!” Cassie Tate’s headlong rush from the house halted abruptly.
Damn!
She bent to pull a cactus needle from her shin. One quick jerk—a sting—and it was gone. When had her ex-in-laws gotten that cholla plant? It hadn’t been there a few months ago, when she’d been over for a Christmas drink and gift exchange with them.
Unmindful of her new silk dress, Cassie slid onto the rough bark of the branch, its horizontal shape familiar to her. The first time Sam had ever kissed her had been right here…
Cassie looked around, her hands poised on the trunk as though she were ready to push off. Maybe it had been a mistake to come out here.
But where else could she go? The backyard was enclosed with an eight-foot-high stucco wall. She couldn’t get out front—and to her car—without walking through the house.
Breathe, she reminded herself. She filled her lungs as much as her tight chest muscles would allow.
She had to be calm. To assimilate what she’d just heard. And what she was going to do about it.
One thing was for certain. She wasn’t going to cry. She’d cried enough tears for Samuel Montford.
Glancing through the leaves surrounding her, toward the house where strains of piano music wafted from the living room, Cassie could see the lights of the party twinkling merrily. As though everything was normal.
And maybe for all those people in there, things were just fine.
Maybe all of them could welcome Sam home after his ten-year desertion. Maybe they could forgive. Forget.
Maybe she could, too. If she had a million years to try.
Sitting out here, on their tree, her mind wandered
