“We’re expecting a baby. But I never courted you, not in the traditional way. Did you miss that?”
“Sort of, but given our family histories, we didn’t have any choice.” In truth, she’d mostly been happy sneaking off with him. “How about you?”
“Fantasies kept the relationship alive for me—remembering what really happened between us and imagining more. It’s just…we never got to know each other well.”
It wasn’t until that moment that she also realized they hadn’t. Not really. Even now, they tiptoed around each other, testing each other’s reactions. “I guess not.”
He brushed her hair from her face, then touched her ear, her cheek, her jaw. “I know that you like it when I kiss this spot under your ear.”
He leaned forward and did just that, sending shivers through her.
Red Valley Ranchers: Brothers who work the land…side by side with the women they love!
An Early
Christmas Gift
Susan Crosby
SUSAN CROSBY believes in the value of setting goals, but also in the magic of making wishes, which often do come true—as long as she works hard enough. Along life’s journey she’s done a lot of the usual things—married, had children, attended college a little later than the average co-ed and earned a BA in English. Then she dove off the deep end into a full-time writing career, a wish come true.
Susan enjoys writing about people who take a chance on love, sometimes against all odds. She loves warm, strong heroes and good-hearted, self-reliant heroines, and she will always believe in happily-ever-after.
More can be learned about her at www.susancrosby.com.
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For my heroines—Georgia Bockoven, Robin Burcell
and Christine Rimmer—oustanding writers, generous
friends and loving women. Thank you from the top
and bottom of my heart.
And with thanks to Gail and David Winslow,
creators and owners of the gorgeous Mt. Shasta
Lavender Farms. Your input was invaluable.
Contents
Chapter One
Jenny Ryder’s senses heightened as she stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the hundred-year-old building. Anxiety tasted sharp in her mouth. Cars rumbled along Main Street, vibrating under her feet. And the majestic sight of the cloud-covered Gold Ridge Mountain was reflected in the Bank of Red Valley’s glass door as she grabbed the cold metal pull. She had an appointment with the bank president, Jacob Campbell, who held her future in his hands.
She felt all grown up in the bank’s cool, quiet environment, and was glad she’d dressed like a woman who meant business, not a college student.
Jenny glanced around, not seeing anyone she knew well enough to greet beyond a wave and a smile, even though she’d been born and raised in the small northern California city. She headed straight to Mr. Campbell’s office. His assistant greeted Jenny, then led the way to the open door.
The sixtyish man stood and offered his hand. “No pigtails anymore, I see.”
“I couldn’t if I tried,” she said. She’d had her wavy auburn hair cut to a more carefree chin length last week. Wash and wear.
