Snowbound with the Bodyguard. Carla Cassidy

      Carla Cassidy is an award-winning author who has written more than fifty novels. In 1995, she won Best Silhouette Romance from Romantic Times BOOKreviews. In 1998, she also won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series from Romantic Times BOOKreviews.

      Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write. She’s looking forward to writing many more books and bringing hours of pleasure to readers.

Prologue

      “Order up.” Smiley Smith, owner and short-order cook at Smiley’s Café, banged the small bell on the counter to punctuate his words.

      Janette Black wiped her hands on her cheerful red-and-white apron, then walked over to retrieve the Thursday special.

      She grabbed the plate and served it to the man seated at the long counter. “Here you go, Walter.” She smiled at the old man who came in every Thursday afternoon regular as clockwork for Smiley’s meatloaf.

      “Thank you, honey. Can I bother you for another cup of coffee?” Walter offered her a sweet smile.

      “For you, Walter, it’s no bother.” She turned around and went to get the coffeepot, grateful that the lunch rush was over and she only had two more hours in her shift. Then she could go home and snuggle her little boy and visit with Nana until it was time for her to be back here first thing in the morning.

      “How’s that grandmother of yours?” Walter asked as she poured his coffee.

      Janette’s heart warmed at thoughts of her grandmother. “She’s okay. We have her heart condition under control. She tires easily, but she’s doing just fine.”

      Walter laughed. “She’s a corker, that one. It will take more than a couple of strokes to keep her down.”

      As Janette began to wipe down the countertop, she smiled. Her grandmother wasn’t just a corker, she was the woman who had raised Janette from the time she was three and the woman who was now helping Janette raise her little boy. Nana’s last stroke had been nearly a year ago, but she had astounded the doctors with her recovery.

      Janette was just giving the shiny surface a final swipe when the tinkle of the bell over the front door indicated another diner arriving.

      She looked up and her blood froze. There were three of them, all wearing the khaki uniforms of law enforcement. Sheriff Brandon Sinclair led the way, swaggering in followed by two of his trusted deputies.

      There were only two cafés in Sandstone, Oklahoma, and she’d chosen to work at Smiley’s because the other place, Lacy’s, was where Sinclair and his men usually ate their lunch.

      Sheriff Sinclair surveyed the café like a king overseeing his domain, his ice-blue eyes narrowing just a touch as his gaze landed on Janette.

      Take a table, she mentally begged. If they sat at the table, then Heidi, Janette’s coworker, would wait on them. Janette had spent the past year of her life doing everything possible to avoid contact with the sheriff.

      As he and his deputies headed toward the counter, her stomach bucked with a touch of nausea and her heart began to beat the rhythm of panic.

      She couldn’t lose it. Not here. Not now. She refused to let him know how he affected her, knowing that he would relish her fear.

      He’s just another customer, she told herself as the three seated themselves at the counter. “Can I take your orders?” she asked, surprised to hear her voice cool and collected despite all the emotions that quivered inside her.

      “Coffee,” Sinclair said. “What kind of pie is good today?”

      “Apple,” Janette replied tersely, then added, “the apple is always good.”

      “Then let’s make it coffee and pie for all of us,” Sinclair said.

      Janette nodded and turned to get the coffeepot. She could do this. As long as she didn’t look at him too long, as long as she didn’t get close enough to smell his cologne. She had a feeling if she got a whiff of that cheap, cloying smell she might vomit.

      She filled their cups, trying to ignore the way Sinclair’s eyes lingered on her breasts. Her throat tightened and her heart banged harder against her ribs.

      “Never guess what I heard through the grapevine,” Sinclair said to his deputies.

      “What’s that, Sheriff?” Deputy Jed Billet asked.

      “I heard that Janette has a little baby boy. What is he, about five months old, Janette?” Sinclair gazed at her knowingly.

      She turned to get their pie, her hands trembling as she opened the display case that held the desserts. He knew.

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