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It was shelter
Sure, the doors still weren’t hung, the water supply and electricity weren’t hooked up and the inside shelves she’d planned weren’t installed, but this was a place to work. A place where her dreams could come true.
She walked around the corner of the house to see Brandon, shirtless, standing at an outside spigot, water rushing into his open hands. He didn’t hear her at first as he splashed water on himself.
The twilight revealed a well-built body, not an ounce of spare fat anywhere. Not the gym-sculpted, steroid-assisted six-pack she’d grown accustomed to in New York. No, this was the real thing, form beautifully following function.
An urge to sculpt such a body overtook Penelope—as well as the urge to explore those planes and angles with her hands.
The splashing halted abruptly as Brandon caught her staring at him
“You, um, could have come in the house. I have hot water inside, you know.”
“Well…soap and hot water would be nice.”
“C’mon.” She indicated the house with a jerk of her head and turned to hide her scarlet face. What was the matter with her? She, who’d painted and sculpted nude, well-built male models, was acting like a schoolgirl. How could this man’s bare chest undo her?
Dear Reader,
Ever fall in love with someone at first sight? Well, I did. I fell in love with the character of Uncle Jake when he came to life in Where Love Grows, the first book I wrote about the nefarious Richard Murphy. I couldn’t let Uncle Jake go without justice, and his nephew Brandon seemed to me the perfect hero to help him get that justice.
Who should Brandon’s heroine be, though? What woman was feisty enough to take him down a peg or two? And what chasm could be almost too big for Brandon to negotiate in order to win his happily-ever-after?
I discovered that heroine to be not a Southern girl at all, but one who is far different in mind-set from me. She proved to be a challenge from day one, mainly because she isn’t Southern. I’ve come to the conclusion that we Southern women view the world—and our men—from a unique perspective. Love, however, is universal!
I hope you enjoy Brandon and Penelope’s story. Let me know via my Web site, www.cynthiareese.net.
Cynthia Reese
Not on Her Own
Cynthia Reese
MILLS & BOON
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Cynthia Reese lives with her husband and their daughter in south Georgia, along with their two dogs, three cats and however many strays show up for morning muster. She has been scribbling since she was knee-high to a grasshopper and reading even before that. A former journalist, teacher and college English instructor, she also enjoys cooking, traveling and photography when she gets the chance. Not on Her Own is her third book.
To two very special women:
to Laura Shin, for making my dreams come true,
and to my mom, who battled back against the
odds and is with me still.
May these women have the best
that life can offer them.
This book would not be a reality without the intensive help I received from my wonderful editor, Victoria Curran. She literally saved this project. I’d also like to thank my sister, Donna, for helping me through the early planning stages, and my critique partners, Tawna Fenske, Cindy Miles, Stephanie Bose and Nelsa Roberto. Thanks also to my dad, who helped answer some of the technical aspects of welding, and to Tawna and her friends Larie and Minta for helping me with how Oregonians plan weddings—
all errors are mine!
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
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER ONE
